


Not your usual love story

by arcsinx



Series: Not Your Usual Fairytale [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, DJ Otabek Altin, Domestic, Explicit Sexual Content, Fashion & Couture, Hung Otabek, Long-Haired Yuri Plisetsky, Lots of stuff that entails sex, M/M, Model Yuri, Paparazzi, Sexual Tension, Social Media Heavy, Though It's Not Even Mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:58:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 93,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10070420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcsinx/pseuds/arcsinx
Summary: Baranovskaya's new face,Yuri Plisetsky(22),who shot in Venice for Vogue's last issue, was seen accompanied byOtabek Altin(25) as they left a coffee shop in St Petersburg yesterday. The DJ andvoted 2017's hottest musician, Altin was in the city to compose forVictor Nikiforov's (30) new movie production. The couple met at theParis Fashion Week after-party(image) and have been appointed to besecretly datingever since. An intimate friend claims Altin to becompletely besottedwith the Russian beauty, having even gifted him a $35,000 diamond collar necklace!For more photos of Plisetsky's front cover shoot for Vogue,click here.For more articles on Altin's new collabs with popstars,click here.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the universe I have been building for a while. You don't need to have read the first work to understand this. I'm _not_ an expert in the fashion world so there's a lot of groping in the dark here. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

"Yuri!"

Yuri turns, being careful to keep his stoic expression on and charging his gaze with apathy. He's never been known for looking good while coy or shy. They like him because Yuri has the face of a fairy and the heart of a lion. That's not him saying it, that's the teenage magazine freelancer who'd done an article on his uprising fame once two years ago. For some reason, that description of himself stuck with him. 

"Good, good, now this way," the photographer guides him.

Yuri catches himself by the doorframe leading to the balcony. The view really is spetacular, a fucking Venice channel. But Yuri was here on business. He lifts his shoulders to his ears, letting the white button-up slide down his forearms to settle on his elbows. He looks over his shoulder at the camera lens, which capture the contrast of his semi-naked form against the landscape, the paleness of his bare shoulders and his lean legs, the cascade of blond strands following down his spine. Yuri's wearing boxers but the hem of his shirt hides that from behind. Later on some funny interviewer would ask if he had indeed been naked for the shoot save for the shirt and Yuri would smile mischievously because he knew better than to give them a straight answer. 

"Okay, let's take a break," the photographer says and lowers his camera. The rest of the crew shifts and begins rearranging every other thing about the room. They were in some cheap hotel double bedroom that the magazine had rented because it created a _vintage scenario_. Yuri knew better than to question nowadays. All he knows is that the room smells of mold and old cigarette butts that are probably hidden under the carpet since the nineteenth century. 

The makeup and hair crew run and fling themselves at him, pulling on his hair and spraying lacquer. "Ouch," Yuri protests when they pull too hard. A harried looking girl is responsible for his makeup and dabs powder on his face as though she's running out of time. 

"Right, he's good, all done," the photographer says after considering him for a minue. "Yuri, let's try the balcony, shall we?"

The only furniture keeping the balcony company is a rusty iron chair that Yuri's made to sit on. Automatically, he supports his legs on the railing and inclines his head back. The photographer almost comes on the spot. 

"Oh, great, fantastic," he cries, "Fold your legs." The shutter clicks and there comes a snap, followed by another. They give him a pair of aviators and Yuri bites the end of it provocatively. The photographer snaps picture after picture of him. 

Yuri knows that one is making cover. He shows it to Yuri later: the way he captured Yuri's defying look, the way his rosy lips close around the glasses; the paleness of his chest that his open shirt doesn't hide, the hem that falls around his thighs like a skirt without revealing, but hinting strongly at what's between them and above all, the length of his legs, folded over the railing in careless abandon.

"How long are your legs again?" the photographer laughs. Yuri rolls his eyes and calls a taxi to come pick him up. 

 

-

 

 _'what to do in venice'_ , Yuri Google searches.

He's back in his _real_ hotel, and after making sure his flight for Paris is programmed for tomorrow, finds himself bored. The search's results spit out some turistic attractions he should visit, all of them looking somewhat the same. Yuri sips from his bottled water and decides to call for pizza because that's Italian enough and there's no one watching his diet. Yakov still hadn't answered his email regarding Lilia's contract and if he should gain a couple pounds Yuri can blame it on him for leaving him anxious. 

Easier said than done, Yuri eats two slices before he remembers a couple other colleagues who had the nasty habit of pushing their fingers down their throats until they threw up. Yuri had tried it once, when he'd binge eaten pirozhki when being back to St Petersburg with his grandfather after what felt like a lifetime. It left a sour taste in the back of his throat that Yuri had had to tolerate during the whole event. He was afraid anyone who looked at him knew what he'd done. 

_have you ever made yourself throw up?_ he asks Mila while cleaning his bed off crumbs. Mila is older in the business than he is and taught him most of what he knows though Yuri would never admit to that. It takes a while but a little bubble shows up to indicate Mila is typing.

_no. i have no gag reflex anymore :xxx_

Yuri cringes. 

_you should be ashamed of yourself_

_why is that ??_  
_u r just jealous i get more dick than u ;p_ , she sends a serie of eggplant emojis along with that. 

Yuri groans and flops back down on the bed. _that's not true_ , he types though he knows he's fooling no one. Mila was very indiscreet when it came to her conquests and nightly routines. 

_darling , dont even start_  
_btw , talking abt dicks ..._  
_i may have found_ the _dick_  
_the dick of all dicks , one dick to rule them all_

Yuri frowns. He's sometimes truly shocked with Mila.

_omg, are you drunk?"_

_noooo_  
_u'll see ... ;D_  
_u r coming to paris right ???_

_yes. for lilia maybe_

_nicee_  
_i'll do celestino_

Yuri sits up. _wait, you quit lilia?_

_u r it for lilia now , dont u read the papers ??_

_yakov didnt answer my email. not even sure if he agreed to the contract_

Mila's next message is a hyperlink to a fashion section of a French newspaper. Yuri taps on it. 

Yuri's eyes fly through the article, only assimilating the information that seems more outlandish, standing out in bold letters among the text, his heart beating faster with every word.

>   
>  _Yuri Plisetsky, the new face of modeling, to become Lilia Baranovskaya's sweetheart_  
>  ... the young model overturned all expectations and signed with Baranovskaya ...  
>  ... to debut this Saturday (14) at the PFW for her spring/summer collection ... 

_what the fuuuuck?????_ he types Mila.

Oh, come on. He knew he was making it big. Only Yuri had no idea _how_ big. Vogue was big. Lilia was even bigger. He was being considered the new face of modeling for god's sake. But Yuri didn't really think it would happen. Yakov would probably disagree with one of the contract's terms and make him catch a plane back to Russia. Yuri had been counting on it. 

Oh, fuck. 

Yuri falls back on the bed. His phone continues vibrating next to him with Mila's messages. He only brings his hands up to his head and _takes it in_. It feels surreal, out of this world. Shit, he needed to tell his grandfather. Yuri himself found out he had "signed" it before _he_ had signed it. 

He grabs his phone with still shaking hands and sends his grandfather a quick message detailing the most important points. He takes twice the time he usually does because he keeps pressing the wrong letters on the keyboard. Yuri doesn't do nervousness, the word wasn't in his dictionary since he decided he'd take modeling up. He copies Mila's hyperlink and sends it to Yakov along with EXPLAIN as the email subject. 

His phone is still going crazy with Mila's messages. Yuri opens their talk tab. 

_yessss_  
_wut r u doing 2nte ??_  
_go have fun u lucky bastard_  
_find some italian dick_  
_dont needt o bring me 1 i have it alrdy_  
_go out_  
_but dont eat too much_  
_/is that why u were asking abt throwing up ??? gross_  
_send me a picture :D_  
_wish i was there , bt go kick some ass for me_

Yuri takes a moment to consider. It really does suck to be alone in a room in another country. But he could make the most out of it, right? 

His cell phone pinges with messages in the taxi but Yuri ignores it. He hopes Yakov has answered him though. 

He gets down from the cab and becomes suddenly blind with the city lights. It seemed stupid, but Yuri felt so _different_ , like something awesome or something awful was about to happen to him. He walks for a bit until finding a nice spot. Yuri brings his phone up and snaps a selfie in front of Saint Mark's Basilica. He winks and pushes his tongue out in it and spends a minute before finding the right filter for it, the yellow and orange lights blinking behind him. Yuri fiddles with his phone until thinking up the right caption before uploading it to his social accounts. 

_See you later, Venice_. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is!

Yuri's flight is fucking early in the morning. He leaves the hotel before the sun had even risen, checking out in the uncommonly silent reception. He has the strange sensation that he's being recognized, that eyes are keeping track of where he goes, the things he does. It's nothing _new_. Yuri had been stopped on his way before by fans, sometimes even random people who did a double-take at him and took the courage to approach and say they enjoyed his work. He had a group of fangirls too, Yuri had heard of them in passing though he feels ashamed in their behalf: Yuri's Angels, they called themselves. Their fanpage shared and liked all of his posts, linked every interview he had ever done in his life, announced his whereabouts and wrote twenty pages long essays on what exactly were his feelings towards people he had never even heard about. Last he had heard of them, they were making pools on what his favorite brand of coffee was and counting how many times he had repeated the same shirt to go out get his mail with the doorman. Yuri was almost one hundred percent sure his neighbor from the second floor back in the St Petersburg's apartment was one of them. If Yuri looked deep, deep down he could find the initiative sweet, but when he wasn't trying so hard it just looked absurd. 

Once he gets to the airport he loses that sensation entirely. For the time it's fairly crowded, but apparently one of the flights from the neighboring gate had been canceled last minute. In his jeans and unassuming cardigan, Yuri sits next to his gate with the magazine and the strong coffee he'd bought after security. His leg bobs impatiently as the would-be-passengers decide to make a ruckus. Yuri valiantly tries to listen to his playlist while a woman with a screaming baby insists on blaming - very loudly - the guy from the air company. 

A woman from his air company, smartly dressed in a pen skirt and with a very garish shade of lipstick eyes Yuri and makes her way towards him. Yuri unwittingly lowers his chin and wills his hair to hide his face. It's useless. The woman comes to a stop in front of him, the beaks of her scarpin almost needling Yuri's leopard print slip ons. 

"Mr Plisetsky?" she bends and asks in an earnest voice.

Yuri takes one earbud off. "Yes?"

"Wouldn't you prefer to wait at the VIP area, sir?" 

Yuri blinks. _That_ was new. The thing is, in normal circumstances Yuri wouldn't prefer to wait at the vip area. He's not that high on the stuck-up scale. But the baby's mother really is making a scandal and Yuri hadn't been given the chance to deny that first-seat show. So he nods quietly and grabs his stuff. He feels like he's being watched again but frankly, Yuri doesn't give a fuck.

"Mrs Baranovskaya has sent her regards, sir," the woman tells him as she leads him to the way quieter room, "She wishes for you to have a safe trip and assures you'll make great achievements together."

Yuri nods silently while on the inside his mind is in a turmoil. Yuri had some expectations as to what it would be like to work with such a brand as Lilia's. But those were completely thrown out of orbit because apparently he hadn't been waiting for the sheer monstrosity of what it actually is. But like with any other thing in life he'll just have to get used to it, he supposes. 

The room is desert and the a/c is really strong. Yuri must shiver because the woman - Miss Santoriello, the name tag says - offers to do something about it. Yuri agrees. He takes a seat that overlooks part of the boarding gates and the landing strip. Miss Santoriello kindly announces the wifi password and Yuri's phone immediately vibrates with messages.

"Would you like some coffee, sir?" she asks and Yuri nods absently. Yakov had finally answered his email, and it went a little bit like this:

 _Yuri,_  
I couldn't get in touch with you fast enough yesterday.  
Mrs Baranovskaya herself read the contract with me.  
The terms were clear and she offers to pay well (around $...) -Yuri's eyes widen.  
_You're to come to Mrs Baranovskaya's office to sign the contract as soon as you arrive in Paris._  
Someone is going to be waiting for you at the airport to take you there immediately.  
So please confirm me your flight number and the expected time for it to land here.  
The first show starts around 7 pm, which will give you enough time to get prepared.  
Yakov

Great.

"Sugar or sweetener?" 

Yuri breaks out of his reverie and blinks at the woman. "Hn, nothing, please."

She hands him his coffee and says a couple more polite stuff before going. Yuri settles against the cushioned seat and thinks about maybe taking a nap. He'd barely slept last night, his mind whirring with a thousand thoughts; but he figures he shouldn't as there are only ten minutes left until boarding begins. He goes through his social media accounts to see Yuri's Angels official page has caught wind of his new contract. At least one thousand comments are purely indefinite shrieking. In a uncommon feat of diplomacy, Yuri likes their page back. He quickly exits the tab to avoid second thoughts. 

Mila has sent him a message: _let me know whn u get here so we can grab coffee_ , she says. 

Yuri thinks back on Yakov's email. Once he arrives Yuri will go directly to Lilia's office to sign his contract and will probably have to go through some measurements too. That can go by pretty quickly and their show is set to start in the evening so Yuri figures he'll have some spare time. But he had been looking forward to resting. Ah, to hell with it.

 _k_ , he sends back, and wills himself not to look up when someone else enters the room accompanied by the same woman who'd led him in. The man - it's a man, Yuri hears his voice when he asks for the wifi password - likes his coffee with two spoonfuls of sugar. Yuri had very strong _opinions_ about people like that but kept to himself. 

Miss Santoriello's heels click when she goes back to whatever it is she does - study the whole airport to reel people in to the vip, probably - and the room is left in silence, only the soft hum of the a/c in the background. Yuri takes a sip of his coffee and is about to put his earbuds back on when the man directs him a question.

"Excuse me, but are you Yuri Plisetsky?"

That is a very dangerous question. Yuri looks up. The man is Japanese, is the first thing he notices. He carries a familiar air around him, a face open enough to make anyone immediately like him. So of course Yuri immediately hates him. 

"Perhaps," Yuri chooses to say and the man licks his lips in discomfort. 

"Hm, right," he looks uncertainly at the carpet. 

Yuri decides to give him a chance. "And you would be?"

The man lights up, "Katsuki Yuuri. I mean, Yuuri Katsuki."

"Oh," Yuri is taken aback, "You're Victor's new thing."

Victor Nikiforov was the kind of annoyingly obtuse person who couldn't take a fucking hint that no, Yuri _didn't_ want to make a special participation in any of his movies, no, not even for all that money. He had the ability of infusing himself into whatever social event there seemed to be in the whole Mother Russia, always with his large smiles and cryptic eyes. Yakov had worked with him for some time - been an associate of his studio or something - and given up. Those were the days when he had made his firt visits to the cardiologist.

Victor seemed to think himself a great friend of Yuri's too, sending him all sorts of messages including ten minute long audios of fantastic ideas he'd come up with while inebriated with sake at 3 am. When Victor had first met Katsuki the assailment came to an unbearable point that Yuri had had to block him for a few days. He couldn't bear to hear the words _incredible eros_ ever again. So this had to be Victor's infamous lover.

Yuuri blushes at Yuri's words and seems to be very disconcerted for a moment, adjusting his glasses and grinning erratically. "Hm, his fiancé actually," he says, and shows Yuri the ring.

Yuri gaps. "I can't believe it. That fucking bastard is engaged?"

"The media doesn't know about it. We've been keeping it a secret," Yuuri responds shyly, sending Yuri quick, fearful glances. 

"That's hard to believe," Yuri mumbles, "Victor can be very flamboyant."

Yuuri considers that with a blush. They both drink more of their coffees. "Are you headed to Paris?" Yuuri asks.

"Yes, you?"

"Moscow," Yuuri looks down at his phone for a minute before turning to Yuri. "Congratulations on your contract," he smiles, "send Mrs Baranovskaya my regards."

That's the second time someone's used the words 'regards' and 'Mrs Baranovskaya' to Yuri today. Yuri had met Lilia personally a couple times. In all of their interactions, mediated by someone else, they had nodded their heads to each other, said a couple professional, meaningless stuff and parted ways. Yuri had the feeling she didn't like his aesthetics very much, hence his surprise at her initial offer. 

Yuri must make a pensive face because Katsuki hurries to explain himself. "We've met before in Russia. I used to dance for the Bolshoi. She was a great sponsor."

Yuuri wouldn't have taken Katsuki for a dancer. He's visibly very drawn-in and isn't, how can he say it, in shape. In the modeling world he's the equivalent of what they secretly call a _pig_. But he must have something on him to have gained Lilia's respect. The words _incredible eros_ come up to Yuri's mind and he firmly shuts his eyes. 

"She used to dance when younger," Katsuki continues with a shrug, "It's one of her passions. She was very disappointed when I erm- left," he looks away to adjust his glasses once more, "I'm a gainer," he whispers in secrecy.

Any athlete or model or anyone else who lived out of their images knew how hard it was to admit to being a gainer. Yuri has a fast metabolism, he's always been the way he is: skinny to a fault. But his diet is extremely limited and he's had had problems with it before. He can feel some relation. If he gained pounds for any food he ingested out of his diet he would probably be jobless too though now he's being more careful (with the exception of yesterday's pizza, and his grandfather's pirozhki of course). He figures Lilia is going to keep him in a short leash as well so he should be more attentive to his form from now on. 

Yuri makes a face that demonstrates his sympathy. Yuuri nods in acceptance. The unspoken language of the kept in strict diets is mysterious. 

Katsuki's phone suddenly pinges. Yuri finishes his coffee and gets up to throw the cup in the bin. Outside he can see that his gate is about to open. Yuuri chuckles at whatever it is he's seen in his phone and turns to Yuri. "Victor is happy to know you're headed to Paris."

Yuri frowns, "I can't see why."

"He wants Otabek Altin to compose the soundtrack for his next movie."

Yuri is too busy gathering his stuff to really pay attention to the pig's words. "Oh, really?" he grabs his phone, tucks it in his pocket. Checks for his passport, there.

"Yes," Katsuki absently continues, "he's a genius. A DJ, but he orchestrates every once in a while. We used to dance to some of his stuff in the ballet, they're beautiful."

Yuri moves to the door and gives Katsuki a fake smile. "How very nice. I suppose Victor wants me to make up his mind?" he asks, hand already on the door's handle. 

Katsuki beams, "Yes."

"Tell him I said: no fucking way in hell," Yuri opens the door, "See you around, pig."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a lot of inspiration from Meryl Streep's character in The Devil Wears Prada for this. Hope you like it! :x

The air in Paris is dense as fuck, it reminds Yuri of Beijing, only not so intense. It's windy too, the sky completely clouded. Yuri notices all of that while waiting for the driver to finish loading his stuff into the trunk. He gets on the backseat as soon as he is done. 

The flight had left Yuri feeling even more tired, the ability to sleep in a chair was not one he possessed. He'd struggled to get some shut eye only to end up reading the magazine he'd bought. It contained nothing but gibberish talk, people preying on Victor's and other celebrities' private lives and making high strung accusations or suppositions as to whether they were dating/cheating or doing all of that while pregnant with a third person's child. Yuri felt like he had become dumber just by reading it. 

Surprisingly though, he'd found an article where Mila's name was involved. It didn't say much, it wasn't even big, just a small chart with several pink and red hearts next to a picture of Mila smiling at the camera on some event's red carpet. 

_Has Cupid Struck again?_ , the title said, and then in smaller letters:  
_**Mila Babicheva** (23), model for Celestino, has been secretly seeing someone from the music world. At least that's what an anonymous source from inside the fashion world has told us. "I can't say his name," anon describes, "but when it becomes official I can assure you they'll be a huge power couple." We've separated a few possible musicians in our website that could be Mila's new bf. Go check it out and vote for the hottie of your choice!_

Yuri had taken a picture of it and sent it to Mila. She _had_ mentioned having met someone, but she hadn't gone into details, which was strange for Mila. Maybe whoever it was was a big deal. Oh, great. If Mila started dating Yuri would be abandoned. That's what always happened when his other friends got into serious relationships. 

_shit_ Mila answered him in the car.  
_these ppl can b so tedious_  
_they say i'm going out with chris giaco_ she sends several laughing emojis.

Yuri snorts. The driver gives him a funny look through the rearview mirror. He looks back down at his phone. Anyone with an internet connection knew Christopher Giacometti was gay. Mila doesn't give further information which means she really _is_ steering away from the topic of her love life. Regardless, Yuri informs her he's already landed and that they could meet up somewhere after he's signed the contract. Mila sends him a _let me know_ to which he responds with a thumbs up emoji. 

She probably wants to have a personal conversation with him to avoid any sort of shit. You could trust no one these days, even less inside the fashion circle. The fact that someone had gone out of their way to send a ridiculous magazine personal information on Mila's love life was proof of that. Yuri avoided talking to mostly everyone if it wasn't absolutely necessary. He gained quite a reputation of being, as they called him, 'an uptight bitch', but Yuri couldn't really care less. Some models chatted with everyone, the hairdressers, makeup artists, needlewomen and the ones who ironed the clothes, but almost of them didn't lead very private lives because they ended up being bitten back in the ass by it. Mila used to keep to herself as well but well, people had _eyes_. Sometimes they didn't even need to listen or talk about it, a simple glance over a shoulder to see what the person is typing and whom they're talking to is enough. 

The driver pulls up in front of a fashionable brick building in some classy neighborhood. He opens the door for Yuri and says something in French before catching himself and repeating in accented English. "I'll wait for you, sir, to take you back to the hotel. Please, Mrs Baranovskaya is waiting," he motions to the entrance. 

" _Merci_ ," Yuri mumbles and climbs the stone steps to the gyrating glass door. The interior smells clean, faintly of mint bubblegum. The white tiles glisten under the bubbled light, a receptionist wearing a crisp black tube hides behind a glass desk. She has one earbud on and speaks in quick French while typing in her computer. Atop her desk the Baranovskaya nononsense logo is spread in crystal letters. She glances up at Yuri when he approaches before disconnecting her call. Without directing him another word she mentions his name into her mouthpiece before a man dressed in fashionable black jeans and turtleneck appears from behind the glass doors where Yuri can hear several conversations being held in. 

"Mr Plisetsky, what an honor," his Russian is heavily accented. French, most likely. He smiles amicably and seems to be one of those assistants that always tag along Lilia to lick her shoes. "I hope you've made a safe trip, please, this way," he leads Yuri to the elevators and presses the button for the third floor. "We've been anxiously awaiting for your arrival. Mrs Baranovskaya's personal driver went to fetch you. How are you liking Paris so far?"

Yuri gives a fake smile. "Nice."

"Have you been to the city before?"

"Yes," Yuri had been enchanted the first time he'd been here, eighteen and gullible. He'd done one shoot for a teenage fragrance and some shows for a Moroccan designer. Got involved with a French guy that fucked him for a whole weekend - spectacularly, mind you - and then called him a bitch after an argument that started because Yuri asked him to give him head. The memory makes Yuri grimace bitterly. 

The elevator dings when they arrive and the door whooshes open. Lilia is waiting for them in front of the elevator; behind her her assistants rake their eyes over Yuri. 

"Yuri," Lilia extends her hand. She's wrapped in a peacoat that must've cost a fortune, hair up in her usual bun that pulls her temples back in a way that must hurt a lot. Lilia is the definition of coldness and rigidness. She's always been Yuri's idol. 

"Lilia," he shakes her hand. Her grasp is firm and fast. It's visible she's stressed. Yuri had gathered as much by the expression her assistant made when mentioning they were _anxious_. Lilia wouldn't have sent her personal driver in any other circumstance as well. 

She squints at his clothes before twisting her nose. "Come, we have to be quick," she starts walking further into the floor and everyone immediately hastens to follow her. Yuri tags along. "Georgi, bring the papers to the meeting room. Send someone to take his measurements straight after. I want tonight's clothing lined up for my inspection in one hour. Maximum," she glares at Georgi. 

The floor is occupied by several desks where her employees are scattered around in varying states of stress, printing papers and talking on the phone. A large table at the end of the room has various pieces of clothes scattered. Lilia's assistant designers are bent over it and discussing loudly because of the tail of a dress. Everyone looks over their shoulders as they make their way to the meeting room, hastening to make room for Lilia to walk. They look at Yuri as he follows calmly, hands inside his pockets. "It's Yuri Plisetsky," he hears whispered around. 

The meeting room is kept Siberia cold. Yakov is already in there, scrolling on his phone. He stands from his seat when they open the glass doors and greets Yuri. "Yuri," he says, simply, and hands him a pen before taking his seat back and motioning with his head for Yuri to sit beside him. Lilia sits at the head of the table, her assistants hurrying to grab coffee and biscuits that look more decorative than anything else. 

"Yuri, Yakov has told you everything you should know, I believe?" Lilia asks in her tone that leaves no room for argument. It's mostly an affirmation. Yuri glances at Yakov. He trusts the man after all. Yakov nods. Georgi opens the door in a flurry and hands Lilia a recently printed copy of the contract. A guy who seems to be her lawyer turns on his chair to point Yuri where to sign. 

Yuri signs his name in all the appropriated places. When he's done Lilia takes it from him and hands it to a tall woman who takes it to scan. There's silence for a minute in the room. Lilia's lawyer gets up from his seat. He has dark circles under his eyes and looks like he'd woken up early just to do this. He says some stuff to Lilia while Yakov ducks to whisper in Yuri's ear.

"They changed her show's time. She's furious. Try not to make it worse," Yakov grumbles under his breath, giving Yuri a look that could freeze ice. 

Yuri glances at him, "Wasn't it scheduled for 7?"

"Yes. But it's gonna be at five now," he whispers. Lilia is still discussing with her lawyer and everyone in the room seems to be avoiding each other's eyes. 

Yuri frowns, "But her brand is big." Usually they saved the bigger names for the last timetables.

"Yes, but the event has changed managers this year. This guy doesn't seem to like Lilia. As I said, don't make it worse." Yakov knew Yuri's temper.

The lawyer exits after exchanging a business farewell with Lilia. She turns to snap her fingers in front of Yuri's face repeatedly. "Plisetsky, your measurements, go." Yuri _hates_ it when people do that, herd him around like he's cattle.

He gives Yakov a very meaningful look before biting his tongue and getting up. Georgi leads him to a room on the same floor. He gives Yuri a bitter look. Yuri is used to it. Mostly every assistant is a failed model, or at least someone who really wanted to be a model or a designer but couldn't do it. They had to resign to living their lives licking other people's shoes. Georgi knocks on the door and waits until a female voice responds to open it. 

"Natasha, Yuri Plisetsky," Georgi introduces half-assedly. Natasha is a middle-aged woman whose eyes immediately rake over Yuri. Georgi hands her a clipboard as though he's very important. "Mrs Baranovskaya wants his measurements as soon as possible. Send him back to the meeting room once you're done."

The door shuts with a bang when he goes. Natasha grimaces at Yuri, "What a lovely gentleman," she huffs. Yuri can't help a snicker. "Would take your clothes off, please, Mr Plisetsky? We're in a hurry here, sorry. Have you heard of what's happened?"

Yuri strips down to his boxers. Natasha promptly folds his clothes back over a chair. Her room is tiny and a mess, with clothes and measuring tools scattered all around. There's a window that overlooks the street. Yuri can spot Lilia's driver waiting for him, leaning against the car while reading a newspaper. Yuri remembers her question, "Yes, they fucked up her show."

Natasha hums, "To put it mildly," she says, eyes fixed on Yuri's body while she extends her tape. "You have a perfect omega body," she encircles his waist with her tape, "Hn, tiny waist. Lovely," she slides it down to his hips expertly, "Good hips. You must have your fair share of boyfriends."

Yuri smiles, pulling his hair up when she goes for his breast.

"Are you on suppressants?" she asks sharply.

"Yes."

She nods. Measures his wrist, an ankle and his thigh. "Great," Natasha turns to write his numbers down. "Georgi said you should go back to the meeting room. My advice is that you go for the vanilla biscuits, they're the only ones who don't taste like plastic. You people never seem to eat anything," she turns to Yuri suddenly, "Welcome to Baranovskaya, Mr Plisetsky."

 

-

 

Lilia's show being moved throws Yuri and Mila's coffee out of the window. Mila sends him a sad emoji when he gets some smidgen of spare time to text her. He'd been right when assuming Lilia would keep him in a short leash. As soon as he had returned to the meeting room Lilia had been back to order him somewhere else. 

He was now posing for pictures in black underwear to be kept along with his contract. Lilia wanted him to try as many clothes as possible in the shortest amount of time. Halfway into it she asks him if he'd eaten anything. Yuri says no.

"Not even breakfast?" 

The photographer and the other people in the room exchange looks around them. Lilia is still staring at him. Yuri shakes his head. Lilia purses her lips. 

"Go back," she says with an air of finality. Everyone is silent, "To the car, go back. Tell my driver to take you somewhere. To _eat_ ," she emphasizes, and then shakes her head and huffs, "Never mind. Georgi, go with him and make sure he eats something."

Yuri bristles, but puts his clothes back on and follows Georgi out of the room. The driver doesn't look angry for being made to wait so long to take Yuri to the hotel, Lilia must probably make him wait for her all the time. 

"Change of plans," Georgi tells the driver as he opens the door for Yuri, "We're going to René's. She wants him to eat."

René isn't actually the name of a restaurant, but the name of the chef of a classy vegetarian restaurant. Fun fact is: Lilia isn't vegetarian. But she likes the way he cooks so she goes there everyday and actually makes him cook meat for her. Yuri eats a chicken salad in front of Georgi, who types on his cell phone and doesn't look up at him. The other patrons send Yuri dirty looks for eating meat next to them. Ironically, Yuri feels like laughing. He takes a selfie with his food and makes sure to tag the restaurant when publishing it.

 

-

 

Lilia's driver takes his stuff back to hotel and actually checks in for Yuri. He doesn't know how's that possible but someone must've mentioned Lilia's name and the hotel staff became suddenly very solicitous. 

They're finally at the gallery where the event is being held. The place is packed with hundreds of fashion editors and press and people carrying clothes all around. Yuri had been here to this before but now it's completely different because people actually want a piece of him. He's being accompanied by securities, for god's sake. 

Lilia's staff is all business, directing all the models to strip and put on robes to get their hair and nails done. Yuri scrolls through his feed while a guy blow dries his hair. Mila has taken a selfie of her sat with a towel wrapped around her head and posts it to her Instagram. _Getting ready for the showw !!_ she captions it. Yuri comments: _Medusa_ and waits for her to give him crap about it. 

A woman shows up to do his nails and Yuri loves this part of his job. It's silly but he likes being pampered. She paints them a nude color and the hairdresser finishes his hair, leaving it looking longer and wavy at the edges. He has to get up to give way to another model and is directed to the makeup area. They apply foundation all over his face, mascara on his eyelashes and a shiny lipgloss on his lips. 

Natasha has his clothes ready when he moves her way. The show is set to start in twenty minutes and everyone is in a hurry. Yuri doesn't like this part: the apprehension that corrodes him. He takes in a big breath and reins himself in. He's done this a thousand times before. He can do it again, no problem. 

Lilia's spring/summer collection is all about beige, deep shades of green and red. There's a beautiful flowery dress, the one the designers had been debating over earlier, long and flowy. Yuri eyes it out of the corner of his eye but he knows it's been measured to fit Isabella Yang. He absolutely despises her and her boyfriend, JJ, a Canadian singer who thinks himself at the top of the world. They were extremely over the top.

What Lilia had in mind for him was a jumpsuit: the top a pattern of beige and white and the bottom flowy and plain white. Yuri puts it on and analyzes himself in the mirror. He looks good in it, but he looked good in mostly anything. 

"It would look better with a slit," he ponders to his reflection. 

"What was it?"

Yuri turns. Lilia is standing next to him, arms crossed over her chest. The room, full with models trying up their clothes and finishing their makeup, goes silent. 

"It woud look better with a slit," Yuri repeats, "down the legs."

Lilia stares at him, hard. It probably wasn't every day that her models criticized her design. Yuri doesn't back away and levels his eyes to hers. Someone coughs. Isabella Yang, now in her dress, snickers behind Yuri. 

"Take it off," Lilia says.

Yuri frowns. "Sorry?"

"I said: take it off."

Yuri stares at the room out of the corner of his eye. Some hairdressers had even turned off their blow driers to listen. Fucking people. But Yuri isn't going down gently. He takes the jumpsuit off and wraps the robe back around him. Lilia takes the jumpsuit from him, glances down at it and hands it to Natasha without taking her eyes off Yuri.

"He's right. It'll look better with the slits," she mumbles controversially, "Natasha, please do a slit down the legs," she says, "quickly, please." Natasha scurries to do as told. Lilia's eyes travel around the room. "What are you all staring at? Go back to work, the show starts in fifteen minutes."

Everyone goes back to their business. Lilia's gaze shifts back to Yuri. "Plisetsky, is there anything else you would like?"

Yuri stares at her, his breathing still short, and massages his temples. "An aspirin, please."

He may be going crazy, but he has the impression that Lilia smiles. 

 

-

 

Yuri rocks that jumpsuit. He stands exhilarated after the show. Lilia has gone to the catwalk to receive her applause, a standing ovation from the likes of it. 

She comes back looking as rigid as ever. They had managed to overthrow all adversities and still make a memorable show. Lilia catches Yuri's eyes while receiving her congratulations. She nods in his direction. 

 

-

 

 _u r going to the after-party right ??_ Mila asks him.

Yuri has just showered. He had talked to his grandfather after arriving at the hotel. He was still a little rusty when it came to Skype calls but Yuri managed to help him through it most of the time. He had been receiving texts after texts of colleagues for his debut. His walking down the catwalk in Lilia's (and his) slitted jumpsuit is already making covers of the event's day news. Yuri's Angels fanpage is going crazy. 

_yes_  
_didn't want to. but lilia ambushed me earlier and told me to_

_great :D_  
_can't wait for it :xxxx_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just look for a very, very hot guy in fingerless gloves and a leather jacket. That's Otabek right there.

Yuri is face to face with his clothes, neatly folded in his baggage, and can't decide what the fuck to wear.

_mila I can't decide what to wear_

_omg_  
_r u like ... sure u r a model ??_

_of course, you hag_

_bring me ur stuff_  
_room 407_

Thankfully Mila in the same hotel as him. Yuri enters the elevator and presses the fourth floor button. He knocks on Mila's door and is thinking about announcing room service just for the hell of it when she opens the door.

"Are you... wow," Yuri gaps. Mila looks stunning, and she's not even completely dressed, "Is this Mila Babicheva's room?"

"Oh, fuck you," Mila greets him, throwing her arms around Yuri.

All right, they're like, really good friends and Yuri did miss her but her perfume is super strong tonight and he's not sure she isn't about to suffocate him. He slinks away from her embrace and invites himself in. 

"Fuck, this is a mess," Yuri mumbles. There's a panty Yuri's not sure isn't dirty lying atop her bed.

"Oh, what the hell did you want?" Mila bends to take it out and throw somewhere else, "I wasn't waiting for a visit." She pauses, sliding a red curl behind her ear, "I mean, not your visit."

Yuri rolls his eyes, "Eww, don't even tell me. Help me with these," he throws his baggage on her bed, unzipping and showing Mila the content.

Mila spans her eyes over it, taking his clothes out to analyze. Yuri looks around her room. Her baggage is open on the floor next to the window, shirts and bras and tank tops spilling around it. Let's make it clear that Yuri is not a tidy person but he's never gotten to this point. Mila's toiletries, perfumes, deodorants and lotions are scattered on the study table. Yuri turns to appraise her. She'd done her hair, that much is obvious, her red curls bobbing perfectly around her face. She's wearing dark red lipstick, small earrings that catch the light and a dark blue eyeshadow. Her dress is tight and gives her body more definition, dark blue and silver, stopping mid-thigh. She isn't wearing heels yet but her black high heels look lethal next to the door. 

"Here," Mila claps her hands. "To start: black leather leggings, darling," she says, unfolding Yuri's leggings and showing them to him with a grin. "Next: crop top, they're your trademark, can't go without," Mila brings out the white crop top Yuri'd brought. It's sleeveless and has a tiger drawn purely in golden glitter across it. "And your leopard print boots," Mila pouts, "please, they're lovely," she knocks both shoes together and hands them to Yuri. "Now, get dressed."

Yuri looks down at the clothes pensively.

"Come on, Yura," Mila insists, checking her phone, "I can't be late for this."

Yuri groans, but takes the clothes and puts them on. 

Okay, he looks kind of hot. Like, maybe a lot. The leather leggings combined with the crop top highlights his small waist and his tiny bellybutton. Mila claps excitedly when she sees him from her mirror's reflection. 

"What were you thinking about doing with your hair?" she asks from her perch in front of the mirror, reapplying her mascara for what looks like the twelfth time. 

Yuri analyzes himself. "A braid," he answers and Mila puts on her shoes while Yuri does a head braid on the side of his head. His hair flows freely around it, straight blond strands. Yuri uses Mila's outliner to draw himself cat eyes but has to reach for his own foundation because her skin tone is darker. When he is finished he looks ready to go. 

Mila, waiting by the door while texting, takes one look at him. "There's something missing," she says.

Yuri looks down at himself searchingly. "I don't think so, I've done everything."

Mila bites her bottom lip. "No, come on, sit back," she grabs Yuri's arm and makes him sit on her bed. She digs for something in her baggage, her phone pinging on the table. She comes back holding something glittery and golden. "Close your eyes."

 

-

 

"What the fuck did you do to my face?" Yuri balks, scratching his eyes, which are starting to sting with the smudged makeup he's apparently dragging with his nails. 

Mila laughs. She looks about to have the time of her life, cheerier than ever. She's dragging Yuri down the hotel lobby towards the cab they'd called. "Oh, shut up, you look delicious."

"I look like I fell face-first into an art project," Yuri growls. Mila had smeared golden glitter on his face and then applied a fucking golden lipstick to his lips. Yuri feels like he's walked out of a carnival. All right, he was Yuri Plisetsky. He did whatever he wanted, and he knew he was looking hot but this had been his debut for a very big, serious, respected name. He wouldn't want to got to the event's after-party looking like he'd eaten a bagful of glitter. 

"It's a party, you dickhead," Mila giggles, greeting their driver merrily and pushing Yuri onto the backseat of the car. "You have to look hot, doable, fuckable, you know what I mean?"

Yuri grunted. The thing with glitter was that it got everywhere _except_ out of your body. Yuri had glittering wrists and forearms, a glittering belly and neck and a glittery fucking face. He growled in anger and glared at Mila, who winked and pouted before hugging him. 

"Oh, I'm so excited, Yura," she shrieks. "Aren't you? There are gonna be some many nice people in there."

Yuri takes his cell phone out of his backpocket and what a difficulty it is. Yuri forgets leggings can be so tight. "I'm not sure. JJ is gonna be there with fucking Isabella. That just ruins my mood."

Mila gives him the tongue. "Come now, you're just being an uptight bitch."

Yuri smiles no matter how much he doesn't want to. He gives Mila the tongue as well and she throws her head back laughing. 

"We look so hot right now, come on, picture for fans," she digs for her phone in her small purse and brings it up to snatch a selfie of them. They both pull their tongues out. She posts it to her Instagram.

 _PFW after-party with @yuri-plisetsky !!_ , she captions it. 

They go through a bit of a traffic next, the city sparkling in the night around them. The gallery's block has been interdicted for the show. A wide red carpet is extended in front of the entrance, lined by bouncers. Whoever shows up stands for the press for a minute so they can get their pictures taken and their names screamed as loud as possible to get their attention. Yuri is not counting down the seconds to go through that. He's not the most amicable of persons, but he finds his patience can be truly tested when his retinas are being burned and senseless people are calling his name out like it's a fucking contest. 

He gets out of the car next to Mila and they walk up the carpet side by side. The photographers start screaming for them, waving and asking if they could get their pictures. Mila makes a face at him. "Just one," she begs, grabbing onto his wrists and dragging him along with her.

Yuri groans, but they've already started to take their photos. The flashes are blinding, but he stands next to Mila and gives a small grin. "Yuri! Mila! This way, look this way," Yuri bristles, but keeps his pose firmly in place, "Looking good. What are you wearing?"

Yuri doesn't say. He doesn't really remember who'd designed any of what he was wearing and frankly, he doesn't care. It was probably outdated, but then again he also didn't care. After a few more seconds Yuri waves goodbye at them and makes his way to the entrance, Mila following closely on his heels.

"They loved you," Mila says.

Yuri rolls his eyes. The lobby has been transformed into another place entirely: it looks more like a club than anything else. Colorful reflectors dart all around, illuminating people's faces and attires, waiters go up and down carrying trays of appetizers that are barely touched, everyone sipping from elaborate drinks the numerous bartenders are preparing in the big, oval-shaped counter at the room's center. A constant, deep beat comes from the speakers.

The first person they find is Phichit, in a flamboyant Thai shirt and what Yuri discerns as leggings under the faint light. He hugs them tightly and asks how they've been doing, a glass of something alcoholic on his hand. 

"We've just arrived," Mila says, a little bit louder over the music.

Phichit nods before turning to Yuri, "Yuri! You look fabulous!"

Mila grins proudly, "I know, right? Tell Phichit who chose your outfit, Yuri," she teases with a laugh.

Yuri huffs. "What are you drinking?" he asks Phichit instead.

"Oh, I don't know. But it tastes like tea," he smiles, "with alcohol." He extends it to Yuri, who takes one sip and twists his nose. 

"It's terrible," he winces, doing his best not to spit it out. Mila and Phichit laugh at his reaction, and Mila takes the glass from Phichit's hand to try it herself. The smear of Yuri's golden lipstick is still visible on the glass' rim. She makes a far less uglier face than Yuri, but gives Phichit's drink back before commenting on it.

"Have you seen JJ?" Phichit asks excitedly, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder. Indeed, JJ is standing a few feet away from them, an arm slung around Isabella's shoulder possessively as they laugh at something Celestino has said. He's exhaling his usual stuck-up aura, in jeans and a social shirt. Isabella wears a hot pink dress with a collar so low Yuri can see her bellybutton. Phichit must notice the way Yuri's face moves into a scowl when spotting them because he becomes far less excited. "Anyway, I've been meaning to tell him how much I loved his last album. But don't you think he'd find it rude? To just stop him on his way to say that?"

"I bet he won't. He loves attention," Yuri grumbles. Mila giggles. Yuri doesn't know how the rest of the people don't see how disgusting JJ and Isabella can be.

Phichit waves it away, "Never mind. He's not the only hot celebrity who's come to the party. Chris has come too. They'll play some of his songs, he and JJ. And then of course," he turns to Mila, mouth turning into a small 'o'. "Is he coming?" he asks.

"He's on his way," Mila smiles all too cheerfully. 

Yuri frowns, and is about to inquire them when someone calls his name from behind him. 

"Yuri," it's Lilia, Yuri turns to see. Her eyes take in Mila and Phichit standing nearby, "Mila," she nods. Mila has worked with her for some time before. 

"Mrs Baranovskaya," Mila answers politely.

Lilia nods to Phichit as well and asks Yuri to accompany her to the bar. He exchanges a look with Mila but follows Lilia. She's wearing a deep red fur-lined coat even though the room isn't even that cold. They come to a stop near the bar, where Lilia asks for a vodka martini, four olives, please. Yuri asks for a piña colada because that's the only name that comes to his mind.

"We've received good critique," Lilia says, staring ahead. Her perfectly manicured finger is tapping against the countertop.

"We?" Yuri asks.

Lilia gives him a reproachful glance, the corners of her mouth pursing. "Yes, Plisetsky. The show has received good critique."

Yuri knows that's what she meant and smiles wolfishly because he got her to repeat herself. Lilia must've realized that because she sends him a respectful glare. She rakes her eyes over his body. "What is that garbage that you're wearing?"

"Didn't you like it? I think it is yours."

Lilia scoffs. "Come with me. Thank you," she says to the bartender when he brings back hers and Yuri's drinks. "There are some people I want you to meet," she motions with her head for Yuri to follow her.

Yuri has said it before: he hates being herded like cattle. He takes a sip of his drink and finds it passable. Lilia is walking ahead of him and he follows in a lazy stroll. Yuri feels his neck pricking. He knows that sensation: he's being stared at. Yuri hates it. So he turns to look over his shoulder at the source of the stare. 

He's the most gorgeous man Yuri has ever seen. And Yuri's profession is modeling for god's sake, he's seen some true Greek gods before. His gaze is penetrating, even though it looks like he's been startled out of something when looking at Yuri. The cut of his leather jacket and the white shirt underneath promises broad shoulders and a washing board torso. He has an undercut (which is also JJ's hairstyle, which should automatically make him a prick as far as Yuri is concerned) and is standing at the bottom of the DJ station, a member of the staff screaming over the music to ask him something and he's still. Staring. At. Yuri.

Yuri is glad for the makeup now, it hides the way he blushes at least. Yuri firms his chin, gives the man his most defying look back and turns sharply around. His heart is pounding inside his chest and this is really very confusing. Yuri's had dickheads staring at him in clubs before and it never got him like this. But then again half of those guys didn't look as fucking scalding as that one and didn't maintain Yuri's gaze with that level of... laid-backness. Had they ever seen each other? Yuri couldn't help but feel like they had. But then again he has no idea who he is. 

"Yuri," Lilia calls sharply. She's standing next to a couple designers Yuri recognizes by face and name. The crème de la crème of designing. He steers himself back, still a little shaken by his eyelock with the mysterious stranger before approaching.

Lilia introduces Yuri to all of them, who nod pleasantly and congratulate him on his performance. "That jumpsuit," one of them says, making a grand gesture, "absolutely fabulous. Lilia had a wonderful idea, as always."

"Actually," Lilia puts in. Yuri's eyes flick to hers. "Plisetsky deserves part of the honor for that."

"Well, he did showcase it perfectly."

"What I mean," Lilia hardens her words, "is that Plisetsky modified it last minute," she nods his way.

Yuri hadn't expected her to ever give him credit for that. Even less so in front of these other, conceited designers. But she had clearly dragged him here to do just that. Yuri was right for having her as his idol. 

"So Mr Plisetsky likes designing too?" another, an Asian designer asks, "wouldn't he like to work with us some day?"

It's clear Lilia hadn't been waiting for her colleagues to try and snatch her recently acquired topmodel out of her hands, but the way she holds herself, the tilt of her chin, make it all obvious that she's giving Yuri the choice. 

"I'm sorry, but I'll be happy to continue working under Mrs Baranovskaya for as long as she will have me," Yuri complies.

Lilia preens, and the glance she gives him is all about respect. 

 

-

 

"Can you believe Lilia's friends tried to buy me right under her nose?" Yuri asks Mila. She's standing next to Phichit and the rest of the models, her back to Yuri as she talks and laughs with someone. 

"Yuri!" Mila turns. 

Yuri halts. Mila had been talking to the guy from before. He's eyeing Yuri over her shoulder, his dark eyes alight with recognition and something else Yuri can't quite point out. Mila grabs his wrist to pull him closer until he's standing right in front of him. He's got a few inches on Yuri, three or four. It makes Yuri furious as he inclines his chin upwards to level their gazes.

"Yuri, this is the guy I've been meaning to show you," Mila is saying, "Otabek Altin. You must've heard of him before."

Yuri can't make himself say anything. The guy - Otabek fucking Altin, the guy Victor wants to compose for him - is staring at him patiently. He quickly glances at Mila when it's obvious Yuri won't speak up. 

"Well," Mila continues, "Beka, this is Yuri Plisetsky. You must've heard of him as well."

"I did," Otabek says, extending his hand to shake Yuri's. The way he stares at Yuri is unnerving, like he's appraising his face and trying to pin him down. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Yuri."

Yuri shakes hands with him quickly, only because Mila is looking back and forth between them weirdly. Otabek's hand is warm and big on Yuri's slim fingers. Yuri pulls his hand back as if burnt. There's an odd silence between them, Mila giving Yuri a wary look before clearing her throat. "Anyway, Yuri, Otabek will be playing later on tonight."

Yuri nods. He can still feel the weight of Otabek's gaze on him. 

Mila licks her lips. She's clearly run out of things to say. She turns to Otabek, who guiltily looks away from Yuri. 

"Guys," Phichit shouts. His drink has already had its effects on him. He throws both his arms around Mila's and Otabek's shoulders. "JJ is gonna take the stage, let's daa-ance!" he swings them.

Otabek's face hardens. Mila laughs at Phichit's antics but doesn't take his arm off her. 

"Beka, will you come?" she calls after Phichit has gone and managed to drag himself and the other models to the dance floor. Otabek shakes his head, hands in the pockets of his jeans. Mila looks troubled for a minute, gaze suspiciously going from Otabek to Yuri, standing behind him. Something changes on her face, but Phichit screams after her and she gives them a smile before turning on her heels. 

Yuri feels oddly sensitive, and looks away as soon as Otabek shifts his gaze to him. They clearly don't know each other enough to even be able to come up with something to say to start a conversation. A million of topics run through Yuri's mind but none of them seem appropriate. Do you like playing music, Otabek? What else can you do with your hands, Otabek? Have you ever seen the Eiffel Tower, Otabek? Did you know my room has a view of it, Otabek?

Yuri shuts his eyes very firmly. He needs to steer away from those thoughts. Of course he knew Otabek Altin, the DJ, existed, of course he knew his music, which every once in a while popped a billion views on Youtube. But Yuri had never really _seen_ or even _considered_ him as much of anything. He knew of his existence. That was all.

"Are you a friend of Victor Nikiforov's?" Otabek asks. JJ has actually taken the stage and the music shifts to whatever rock ballad or pop song he plays now. Otabek looks affronted, like he wants to fill the silence with conversation so he won't have to listen to that disparage against music.

Yuri's eye twitches. "A friend is a very strong word."

Otabek turns the slightest bit towards him to give him a small smile. 

Oh, fuck me sideways, Yuri thinks, and twirls his hair to the side. He has a feeling he's never been good at flirting, but fuck, Otabek doesn't look like he needs to be paid to sleep with Yuri. Unless Yuri has been reading his signs all wrong. What should he do? Should he bite his bottom lip? Was that too hard of a come-on? It would look tacky as hell.

"He contacted me," Otabek keeps saying, turning his head to continue frowning at JJ. His face structure is spectacular, Yuri notices. His eyebrows shapely and his nose straight, lips a line between thin and plush. "A few days ago. He wants me to compose a soundtrack for him. I don't orchestrate very often. Because when I do I usually need very good inspiration," he turns to Yuri.

It shouldn't be sexy that he's said that. He can't be meaning anything other than what he means but Yuri has a feeling, and he suspects Otabek knows that, that he is not. If that makes sense at all. 

Yuri takes a good sip of his drink. He thought it would be funny but now he regrets having asked for a straw. It makes him feel like a stupid kid, under the eyes of Otabek, who is very obviously _not_ a kid. 

"Don't do it," Yuri says around the straw. "It's a trap."

Otabek looks questioningly at him. JJ's song has now reached a very loud chorus and Yuri has to scream to be heard. "Victor is full of shit. You give him a hand and he bites your whole arm off."

"Wow, that seems intense."

It was not intense, it was dumb. God, why had Yuri said that?

"He's asked me to make up your mind," Yuri confides.

Otabek frowns at him, "he did?"

"Well, yes, did I stutter?" Yuri continues. Gods, but he's messing this up. Otabek probably doesn't like rude blonds. Oh, to hell with it. Yuri had never tried to impress anyone. "I don't consider myself an asshole so I'm telling you the truth. Do it if you want to. But Victor will want you by his side all the time afterwards. He's like Samara Morgan, he doesn't know when to stop."

Otabek laughs at that. It sounds like an orgasm shaped into sound waves.

"How long do you know him?" Otabek asks.

Yuri downs his drink. He feels dizzy afterwards, but keeps himself up. 

"Long enough to know what I'm talking about," Yuri puts his glass down, "Mr Altin, if you'd excuse me," he says with all the sass he can muster, and leaves Otabek alone so he can go somewhere else where he doesn't feel so fucking _overwhelmed_.

Yuri finds a spot next to the bar and leans against it. Some people come talk to him, an actress he's sure has won an Oscar in the beginning of the year and another model that admires his work a lot (his words, not Yuri's). JJ thankfully leaves the stage, that is now occupied by Christophe Giacometti. His pop songs are overtly indecent but get the dancefloor going at a steady flow. 

He spots Mila, who in turns spots him and makes her way towards him, Otabek in tow.

"Fuck," Yuri mumbles against the new drink he's ordered, tipping his chin down to pretend he hadn't seen them.

"Yuri," Mila says, "come take a picture with us."

At the other side of the room some photographers were snapping pictures of the party-goers in front of a banner. Yuri twists his nose at them.

"I'm not drunk enough."

Mila rolls her eyes. "Beka," she turns to Otabek suddenly, "convince him."

Otabek slides his eyes to Yuri. "I don't think I can convince him to do anything he doesn't want to."

Mila gives him a tight-lipped look. Yuri feels a shiver run down his body, and leaves his unfinished drink at the counter before turning to them. "All right."

"All right?" Mila raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, let's go. I'll do it."

Mila smiles victoriously. "Great, but try to look fun," and drags him by the arm. Otabek follows silently. Yuri doesn't know what's up with him, only that he keeps giving Yuri these sneaky glances and doesn't look away when Yuri catches him. 

They stand in front of the cameras. Mila pushes Otabek to stand between them and gives a big smile. Yuri does his best to look like he's having fun. Otabek gives his signature smirk and twirls an arm around Mila and Yuri, his hand touching the bare skin of Yuri's waist. Yuri tries to hold back a full-body shiver. Otabek's hand is warm and doesn't stray from its position. They get a faceful of flashes before they go. 

Mila wants to go dancing again and insists Yuri should accompany her. Otabek looks divided, and stares firmly at Yuri for a minute as though he's about to say something before a member of the staff comes to tell him he's next to take the station after Christophe leaves. 

"Oh, go, Beka! Play something good for us! Yuri will dance for you," Mila says, pulling on Yuri's wrist to convince him to go.

"I hope so," Otabek smirks and then turns to climb the steps to the DJ station.

Mila pulls Yuri to the dancefloor. Christophe is still performing, pink and yellow lights darting around them. Yuri is starting to feel like the alcohol is having its effects on him. "Did you like him?" Mila screams over the music. 

"Otabek?"

Mila nods. 

Yuri shrugs. "He's all right."

Mila giggles, "He's like, a god. But he has a tough shell, he's very private, you know?"

Yuri turns to look up at the DJ station, where Otabek is stretching his arms and gesturing to the guy adjusting the sound system next to him. He looks like he belongs there, expertly flicking his tools. He pauses for a minute, eyes moving over the dancefloor until he finds Yuri. Otabek points to his own right eye before indicating Yuri in the universal gesture of _I've got my eye on you_ , smirking pointedly down at him.

Yuri smiles back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know any good electronic music but if you do go listen to it and pretend it's Otabek playing.

Otabek is a _huge_ DJ. Not that Yuri had ever doubted that. Again, his music was everywhere. But actually listening to it live is another thing entirely. It's clean and builds in fast rhythms until reaching deep waves that makes him want to _move_ so bad. It's undescribable.

He's playing one of Yuri's favorites now, the name something like Time Machine, Yuri can't remember. Otabek has been wisely chosen to play last, the party looks like a club now, with mostly all of the models on the dancefloor while the designers and the too drunk ones are sat at the tables rounding the far end of the room. 

The mix of the music with the alcohol and the fluttery, proud sensation of knowing he is being watched has Yuri dancing. He does a bit of ballet and yoga to keep his shape without building too much manly muscles (the modeling market for male omegas require they stay as androginous as possible), so it's not as if he doesn't know how to express himself physically. Mila is dancing with him and sometimes they are joined by Phichit and Leo before they lose themselves in the crowd. 

"Oh my god," Mila is shouting to him. Some of her red curls cling to her forehead. Yuri feels sweaty himself, but thankfully not too much. It wouldn't be sexy if Otabek caught him dancing while looking like a dripping, sweaty bull. "He's insanely good, Yura."

Yuri actually _giggles_. "He's great."

They make a short pause to get water from the bar. Yuri slouches against his stool while Mila orders for them. He looks up at the DJ station where Otabek is completely focused on his work. He has headphones around his neck and bangs his head along with the beat, licking his upper lip and murmuring some of the lyrics to his most famous collaborations with popstars. 

Yuri feels like his bones have turned into lead but Otabek's music is so great he feels like going back to the dancefloor. He swallows down the glass of water Mila hands him and sets it on the counter. 

Mila holds up her hands to him, "Calm down, we'll go back, just let me rest my back a little bit," she says, taking the stool beside his and wincing when taking out her heels. Her feet look red. Yuri is so glad he didn't wear heels to this. The advantages of being a male omega, he supposes.

"You're getting too old for this," Yuri teases.

Mila smacks his arm, "Shut up," she laughs. She's a little bit intoxicated but Yuri can't blame her. He feels a bit tipsy himself but still not enough to be sick like Phichit currently is.

"Yuri," Mila suddenly turns to him, "If you were a guy, a hot guy-"

"I _am_ a hot guy," Yuri cuts her in. Mila huffs impatiently.

"If you were an _extremely_ hot guy and you had been talking to me for a while now," Mila resolutes, "would you do me?"

Yuri frowns. He's never seen Mila as anything more than a friend, and even though it's a hypothesis they're building here it still makes him wince. "Mila, of course I would."

Mila stares at the countertop for a while before nodding. "Okay, let's go back."

 

-

 

"Did you have fun?" 

Yuri startles. They'd gone back to the dancefloor and returned to the bar after Otabek thanked them and left the music to the care of the staff. Mila has her head on the countertop. She looks like she's passed out. Yuri isn't much better, glitter and sweat sticking to his skin. He turns to see Otabek, standing behind them looking like he'd just jumped out of Yuri's wet dreams. Of course. 

"Oh, gods, it's you," Yuri mumbles. "Where did you learn to play like that?"

Otabek gives a small laugh, actually showing teeth. They're perfect. Oh gods, his smile is so beautiful. He's such a beautiful man. Yuri has always had a soft spot for men like Otabek. In some way he's just Yuri's type though Yuri had never slept with anyone who looked remotely like him. 

"I just always liked it, I guess," Otabek shrugs. His eyes slide to Mila and he frowns in worry. "What happened to Mila?"

"Had too much to drink," Yuri hums, making some effort to lift his head and support in on his hand, "Her liver doesn't stand it any longer. It's become too weak with time."

Mila moans, opening one eye and giving him the finger. 

"She should probably go back," Otabek says concernedly.

"She'll be fine, don't worry," Yuri pats her head, "We're in the same hotel. I'll take her back." 

Otabek nods. "You danced beautifully," he turns to say to Yuri.

Yuri smirks, "So you did watch."

"It was hard not to."

Yuri blushes a bit and averts his eyes for a moment. Otabek's attention on him makes him feel so good. Not in a proud way, just like, really good _inside_. Like when his grandpa made him pirozhki or whenever Yuri had just any reason to feel happy at all. 

Someone bursts out laughing really hard. It's Phichit, at the other side of the room, leaning against a chair and talking to Leo, who doesn't look like he'll be standing on his feet for a while.

Yuri scoffs, "they're totally wasted," he stretches his arms over his head, exposing some more of his belly when his crop top rids up. He catches Otabek looking. "We should be heading back."

Otabek blinks, clearing his throat and taking his eyes off Yuri's body. "Oh, I," he scratches the back of his head, "Let me take you back. I insist."

Yuri gasps in playful affront, "Mr Altin, I'll have you know I'm a lady of respect."

Otabek flushes. "You both, I meant."

Yuri stares at him for a moment. "Oh, shit," he hides his face behind his hands. Pure mortification describes Yuri's current mood. Fuck. He's so stupid. Of course Otabek would want to take Mila safely to the hotel. He was worried about her and Yuri had said they were sharing the same hotel so Otabek, the gentleman he was, offered to take them both back. He wasn't offering to sleep with Yuri. 

"No, it's- Yuri," the way Otabek says his name is so careful. He reaches for Yuri's wrists to pull them back from his face. His touch is warm, tender over the sensitive skin of Yuri's wrists. He's standing in front of Yuri, his face so open and so _close_. "Don't get me wrong, I-" Otabek looks to the side warily, lowering his voice. "You caught my eye the minute you stepped into this room. You're incredibly beautiful and I want nothing more than to strip you out of those clothes," Yuri's heart may have stopped, "But I don't think it's appropiate," he glances at Mila's form, "Not right now. Okay?"

Yuri nods hesitantly, still appalled with Otabek's words and the way he so shamefully revealed he'd been eyeing Yuri. The utter heat of his gaze was palpable. Yuri clears his throat. "Right, I'll just, go to the bathroom for a minute. You will watch Mila, right?"

Otabek nods after stepping back. He looks really good when flustered, a hint of sentiment on such a manly face. He watches Yuri's every step to the bathroom.

"God, but someone really wants to fuck you tonight."

Yuri turns sharply to the source of the voice. It's Isabella, leaning casually against the wall next to the toilets. She doesn't look like she's had much to drink. It doesn't make much of a difference either, when sober she can still be a bitch. 

"Isabella," Yuri sneers. 

Isabella smirks, "I thought it was impossible. But it seems Mr Altin doesn't have much in the way of good taste."

Yuri looks her up and down. "Mind your own fucking business."

Isabella rolls her eyes, "Never mind. Just warning you, I'm not the one who is gonna have a broken heart tonight."

In the future Yuri would look back at this conversation and only then realize he should have paid more attention to Isabella's words, as revolting as she was in a whole. She hadn't meant _his_ would be the heart that would break. Yuri would recognize then, that sometimes your enemy's advice can save a best friend. 

"Oh, please. Where is your boyfriend by the way? Too busy staring at the mirror? He must jack off to his own photographs, you don't look to be of much help." It isn't by far the worst that Yuri's had to say to her, but it's enough to rid himself of her presence at the moment. Isabella twists her lips like she's about to answer him but Yuri walks away. Fucking people. 

He'd washed his face in the bathroom to make sure he wouldn't say any more embarrassing stuff to Otabek on the way to the hotel but now the way he blushes isn't gonna be a secret anymore. Isabella was a fucking gossip but she could be very perceptive. If she'd noticed the way Otabek had been prowling Yuri she won't probably hide it come morning. Yuri can't see how that would put her in advantage as Otabek is apparently bigger than JJ and being associated with him wouldn't taint Yuri's image. Still, she could make them very embarrassed if it ever hit the public that there was a possibility that they had fucked when in reality, they hadn't. Yuri had seen models be destroyed by sex scandals before.

Yuri finds Otabek exactly where he'd been before, only now Mila has seemingly awakened and is standing with her heels in hand. Otabek seems to be offering to help her walk, an arm around her waist, but Yuri sees the way she shakes her head.

"Oh, sleeping beauty has awakened," he says when approaching. Mila turns to shoot him a look she'd never sent him before. Yuri balks a little.

"What's with you, hag?"

Mila averts her gaze pointedly. "Let's go, Beka," she says and takes tentative steps ahead of them.

Yuri frowns, turning to Otabek quickly. "What have you done?"

"Nothing," Otabek is quick to defend himself, but he gulps and looks away. Whatever it is that is wrong with Mila Yuri has a feeling that Otabek knows, but is avoiding telling him. "She's tired, let's go."

Otabek's right, this party has lasted longer than it should. Yuri isn't surprised with the notion that some people will only leave this place in an ambulance. It's not that shocking anymore. People did all sort of shit when they were young and thought themselves unbeatable. It's not worse than it had been to watch some of his colleagues do cocaine in a club in Mykonos. Yuri still avoids some of them. 

Mila has gone ahead of them into the curb. There are still photographers waiting to capture the shit-faced party-goers for sensationalism. Yuri walks by and gets a faceful of flash by one of them.

"Please, don't do this," Otabek appears out of nowhere, holding up his hand to make them hold themselves back. His voice rings firm and even authoritarian. He steers Yuri into the curb with a hand to his waist. Surprisingly, no one takes more pictures of them. 

Mila is trying to flag down a cab. 

"Mila," Otabek calls. He looks serious. Yuri's eyes shift between them. 

Mila visibly sighs, "Beka, please, just let me go."

"I will. But I will take you back," Otabek insists, "I promised, remember?"

Mila brings a hand up to massage the bridge of her nose. She looks tired and worn under the yellow headlights that pass by in the street. Finally, she walks up to Otabek, letting him help her walk steadily. Yuri doesn't say anything, it feels like the moment doesn't call for his ironic jabs.

Otabek drives because apparently he came by himself. Yuri still eyes him suspiciously. He is on the passenger seat though he insisted he should go with Mila in the backseat. But she'd steadfastily rejected him and is now staring out the window pensively. Otabek catches Yuri watching him in a red light.

"I didn't drink," he elaborates.

In fact Yuri hadn't seen him drinking, save for a bottle of water when he was performing. "Why not?" he still asks.

"Religion," Otabek pulls off in the green light, "I'm Muslim." 

Yuri hums lightly, stretching his head back against the headrest. He feels unearthly tired. He sees the way Otabek glances at his pale throat before tightening his hold on the wheel. It amuses Yuri, makes him feel warm inside, safe beside Otabek while he stares out at the passing Paris lights. 

 

-

 

"I'm fine, Yuri," Mila says, sat at the edge of her bed and taking out her earrings. "I just need to sleep."

"I have an aspirin in my bag, I'll grab one for you," Yuri offers. He's never seen Mila so tired. 

"Stop by tomorrow and I might take it, but right now I just need to rest," she stretches out her arms and sighs. "Go say goodbye to Beka." 

Yuri leans against the doorframe and watches her for a while. Mila grabs her stuff and uncerimonously locks herself in the bathroom. There isn't much Yuri can do for her afterwards.

 

-

 

He runs up to Otabek, who is leaning against his car by the curb and waiting to know if Mila had settled in. 

"She's fine," Yuri informs, breathing short. "Thanks for waiting."

Otabek shrugs. He looks over Yuri's shoulder, eyes seeming faraway. "I really hope she'll get better."

Yuri nods. He feels disgusting inside the same clothes he'd worn all night, sweated in. His face had looked paler than ever when he'd washed it at the party's sink, but the golden glitter still stuck to it in odd patterns. He wipes at his cheek now self-conscious of it.

"Are you cold?" Otabek asks. There's a light, nightly wind ruffling some trees but nothing Yuri isn't used to. He was Russian after all. "Here, have my jacket," Otabek offers.Yuri's about to shake his head but Otabek has already shrugged his leather jacket off and wrapped it around his shoulders. It feels unbelievably warm and soft, smelling of Otabek's cologne, strong and masculine. 

"There's no need," Yuri takes the lapels to give it back to him.

"Yuri," Otabek says, using the same careful, tender voice that is usual when he wants to make a point out. "Keep it, please," he steps away from his car, "otherwise I won't have a reason to see you again."

Yuri blushes, considering him for a moment. He pulls at the sleeves of Otabek's jacket and fiddles with it. They're way past his hands, Otabek's bigger than him so of couse it isn't a perfect fit. Yuri doesn't wish it was either way. "You don't need to dig for reasons, you know," Yuri murmurs. He's not past calling Otabek up to his room but Yuri knows Otabek isn't going to do it. He possibly has come up with a thousand gentlemanly reasons as to why he would be taking advantage of Yuri. Was it weird to judge a person's character so soon? It might, but Yuri has a feeling he isn't wrong on this one. Not to say, he's really tired and unless Otabek is willing to do all the work and risk having Yuri pass out on him nothing is gonna happen. Which doesn't mean they can't flirt.

Otabek seems to be thinking of something, whether it's the same thing as Yuri he'll never know, but Otabek does blush and shake his head dismissively at himself. He steps up to Yuri, boldly placing both hands on Yuri's tappered waist. 

"Keep my jacket. I can pick it up later."

Yuri huffs. "I'm going home tomorrow. I live in St Petersburg, mister."

Otabek smirks sagely. "I said I would pick it up. Did I stutter?" he lifts an eyebrow. 

"Bastard," Yuri growls at the shrewdness of throwing his own words back at him. He also freezes when Otabek leans closer to press a kiss to his cheek.

"Good night, Yuri," he murmurs against his skin. Forget about what Yuri'd thought later. He was totally up for dragging him up to his room. 

Otabek smirks like he knows the effect he has on him. He doesn't. He doesn't know half of it. He climbs up into his car before starting the engine. Yuri ducks to be level with his window. 

"Good night, Otabek."


	6. Chapter 6

Yuri hates feeling hangover. He feels as though there's someone hammering his brain, his tongue parched. He pads up to his baggage, the sun rays filtering through the curtains he'd forgotten to close last night. But last night he had had too much in his head to really care. 

Yuri finds an aspirin pill and swallows it dry, feeling as it makes its descent down his throat. He groans and strolls back to the bed, where he falls face-first. It's nine in the morning and Yuri feels like he's gotten no sleep at all. 

His flight is in the evening so that leaves him some time to rest. And yet he can't. His brain seems to be running rampant.

"Fuck," he grumbles, hiding his face on the pillow when he remembers Otabek. His jacket still lies at the end of Yuri's bed, where he'd taken it off last night and forgotten to fold it properly. 

Yuri looks down at it, tugging it up with his foot until he grabs it to his chest. It still retains Otabek's smell and induces Yuri's brain to remember him. Oh, gods. He was perfect. Yuri was quite aware that no one _was_ indeed perfect, but Otabek certainly was very close to being so. Earlier in his life Yuri had defined that good-looking people are more likely to be complete assholes. He'd expected Otabek to show his true colors but in truth he was actually as inherently kind as he'd seemed. It shouldn't turn Yuri on. But it did. He bets Otabek would feel _so good_.

Yuri hums against his pillow, dragging Otabek's jacket over to cover his back. His phone lies on his bedside table, its small blue light still visible under the sun as it charged. Yuri made a grab for it. 

There are already several news from last night's party on some websites. Yuri scrolls through it absently, finding pictures of other models as they posed on the red carpet, the designers and even JJ next to Isabella, arm around her waist as they kissed for the cameras. Yuri gags. 

He goes to his searchbar and taps on Yuri's Angels' fanpage. They were the worst of the worst, so if Yuri was looking to set up a base of how terrible things had come out last night he could check in there. But what he sees makes his jaw drop.

They were discussing, of course, last night's party, the pictures of Yuri next to Mila when they arrived and surprisingly, the one of Yuri exiting the event. In it he looks like he's seen better days. It's the one the photographer had taken while he was trying to hastily exit without being captured. His chin is tipped down as he looks at the ground and only a few steps away from him is Otabek, looking ahead and about to reach up to his waist. Only a few seconds before the flash had caught Yuri's attention. 

Yuri doesn't wanna see the comments, he really doesn't. So of course he does.

_**yuripuresexy** : omg guuuuys are u seeing this??? this is yuri leaving with otabek altin!!!! more pictures, I want more pictures!! **@fairyuri** did u see this? what have u got for us so far??_

The fangirl she tags seems to be one of the heads of the fanpage, and she/he talks with extreme property of Yuri's whereabouts. What were these people doing with their lives?

 _ **fairyuri** : Hello there, **yuripuresexy**! Yes, I saw it! Otabek was confirmed to play in the after-party's show and according to the event's page he did so  amazingly as always_. Her link leads, true to her word, to the even't page where they congratulated Otabek's performance in a post, containing with it a picture taken by a professional of Otabek up in the DJ station, the room dark save for darting blue lights. The flash caught the thin film of sweat on his throat. He looked obviously delicious. _So,_ she continues, _Yuri and Otabek met at the party_ , this one leads to the same event page, but this time the picture attached to it was of Mila, together with Yuri and Otabek, the event's banner behind them. Admitedly, they all look as though they were having fun, Otabek with his arms around them as they smiled. It looked, Yuri noticed, quite good, though he would be jobless if he was able to take one ugly picture. He was just photogenic. And apparently so was Otabek, who looked liked a pornstar in his leather jacket and sinful smirk. _But that's not all!_ , the fangirl explains, _They did leave the party together according to the people in attendance and the photographers. But as you can see they look uncomfortable in the picture and it's said that Otabek expressely asked the photographers to calm down and leave them be. So, unfortunately, that's the only picture we have. But the heads of the page have made an emergency reunion and are after more facts! **@AngelCaim @AngelGadreel @AngelLucifer @AngelBehemoth**_.

The crazy lunatics responsible for the page seem to be the last ones listed who'd named themselves after fallen angels. It appales Yuri that people would put this much thought into something so superficial. Knowing that they're currently digging up more facts on Yuri's life in their so called 'emergency reunion' has him feeling _very_ unsettled. Not to mention that they're all thinking he and Otabek had fucked. Great. It seems Isabella wouldn't need to do much. 

Yuri scrolls down to see that someone had done a montage on Yuri's picture with Mila and Otabek, cropping it and circling Otabek's hand around Yuri's waist in a red Paint paintbrush. _**yuri_plissetski89** :this, my friends, is otabek's hand on yuri's waist. let's take a minute to appreciate this beauty and have in mind that yuri is wearing a crop top._

_**queenyuri** : wow he sure is handsy! he should have gone for the ass tho I am 1000000% sure they fucked _

_**notyurangel** : i agree otabec should'v copped a feel_

_**100_yuriangel** are you crazy? guys, please respect yuri. he seems like he's having fun and I don't think otabek wanted to take advantage of him. remember Mila was next to them and otabek was touching her waist the same way. this picture is extremely biased. no one likes being copped a feel without permission even though this person is otaebk fucking altin hotness incarnate_.

Yuri would've liked that comment if he wasn't logged in into his personal, official account and if doing so wouldn't incriminate him as to reading his crazy fans' absurd comments on his own sex life. 

_**queenyuri** : there's nothing wrong with touching someone's waist! u ppl nowadays thnk everything is harassment. I believe they did sleep together because they left the party together, we have proof, and because they're both hot as hell._

_**prince-yurotchka** : Come on, guys!! we're missing the point here! remember that article some shitty kazakh magazine did on the celebrities otabek was least likely to sleep/have relations/date with?? well, here's the link. it features yuri! they said he wasn't otabek's type!!! now is the time to give them shit for it!! go, go, go!!!_.

Yuri, because he's made of flesh and blood and because he actually flushes in anger at the thought that such a thing did exist, clicks on the fan's link. It takes some time to load and Yuri is about to become worried he's got his phone infected with a virus when the article's headline shows up. The Kazakh magazine is _The People Reporter_. It looks legit and creditable though their only source of income is publishing news on other people's lives. Yuri has to wait 5 seconds for a makeup add to load before being able to close it to read the article. 

_****_

> _**Who wants him not? The celebrities that wouldn't match with Otabek Altin**_

 _  
Along with the news of Otabek's Grammy Award victory on Best New Artist of 2016 comes the question: where was his date to the ceremony?_

Next to it stands a photo of Otabek on the Grammy's red carpet last year, with a stubble and inside a dark grey suit. He's smirking crookedly up at the camera, that captures the almond color of his eyes and his absolute perfect face definition. And also his body, but that is a lot to take in too.

"Lord, have mercy," Yuri whispers and after a minute scrolls down to the rest of the text.

 _In fact, Kazakh's number one boy is still single. Otabek has said before in interviews that he's "focused on his music at the moment" and "not interested in any new relationships unless he finds someone that truly likes him". Is that actually difficult?  
In the past we've seen Otabek deny all rumors of relationships, including the ones with a Swedish model_, a photo of a blond woman with red lipstick and big, obviously fake boobs pops next to the sentence, _an American Disney actress_ , this time a ginger with lots of freckles and small teeth, _and Kazakh's most famous celebrities. That leads us to the question: who wouldn't date Otabek Altin? Or whether, who wouldn't Otabek date in any circumstance?_ The People Reporter _has set up a list of The 10 Least Likely Celebrities Otabek Altin Would Fall For._

Yuri finds his is the third name on the list. The journalist clearly didn't like him in special, choosing the picture taken when Yuri had disembarked on Berlin for the Fashion Week following the news of his break-up with his now-ex. Yuri had been wearing sunglasses, trying to dodge the papparazzi that insisted on following him and ended up flipping him off. The bastard had caught it on camera and it was now the to-go-to photo to advertise Yuri Plisetsky's Trademark Bad Attitude Towards People. 

__

> _3\. Yuri Plisetsky  
>  The Russian model has become famous pratically from day to night, having worked with several designers and brands. Which most people don't know (or do, but pretend not to) is that Plisetsky is also famous for his bad behavior. He's not shy when saying he doesn't "give an eff about what other people say" about him. That's not a problem, but let's just say he didn't choose those words when paraphrasing it. Yuri is said to be very rude, unlikeable and antipathetic towards others, gaining him famous nicknames inside the fashion world, including (poetic license here) 'stuck-up bitch'. That clearly doesn't match Otabek's gentlemanly ways._

That's not the first time Yuri's read bad reviews about him so he doesn't take it to heart. But the fact that whoever wrote this was saying he would never conquer Otabek being who he was really drove him mad. Yuri goes back to the fanpage.

 _ **yuriplover** : take that AltinGirls!_, reads the next comment to the magazine's link.

Yuri didn't know Otabek had a fanbase. That is, he did. But he didn't know they also gave themselves stupid nicknames and most importantly, answered to Yuri's Angels' comments in great levels of impatience.

_**golden-altin** : these accusations you've been doing are absurd!! otabek is a gentleman, he wouldn't touch anyone without their permission. he was probably nice to yuri and he thought it was something else and took advantage of it to gain attention. not our fault yuri plisetsky is a slut. _

_**princeyurotchka** : take that back! we haven't offended otabek, on the contrary we all agree he's rlly great. yuri isn't a slut, he's the youngest model to ever sign with baranovskaya. he's built his own empire without anyone's help, he doesn't need to pretend to have slept with otabek to gain attention. he is already being super well-received by the critique for his last pfw. they are two people that met yesterday and well maybe they slept together but who can blame them?_

If Yuri was to read all the thread of them backlashing each other he'd have contracted another headache. He closes the tab and opens up his talk with Mila.

_Mila? are you feeling better?_  
_I still have an aspirin_  
_do you want it?_

Mila doesn't answer him immediately, so Yuri disentangles himself from Otabek's jacket, holding it up over his face. It's strange to think the guy he was reading so many comments about had given him his jacket for the only purpose of having a reason to see Yuri again. Nothing compensates the real deal. It gives Yuri another sense of perspective. Otabek was kind and hot and absolutely thrilling. He treated Yuri well and that was all that mattered. Whatever the gossips and the magazines and tabloids and crazy fans in the internet said none of them knew the smell of Otabek's cologne or felt the thrill of having his gaze running up their bodies. Still, they jumped to conclusions when all he and Otabek did was flirt a little bit. It feels like they're cheating the purpose of meeting someone else. 

Yuri goes take a shower now that his headache is receding. He washes his hair and treats it with lots of products before letting it dry. His hair was almost reaching his waist now, he'd need to get it cut sometime. But he'd probably have to talk to Lilia and Yakov before. Modeling had its perks and its disadvantages.

Yuri puts on some sweatpants and a shirt and takes his cell phone in hand. Mila still hadn't answered him. Puffing, he grabs two pills of aspiring and takes the elevator up to her room.

The door is open, and through it Yuri can see a small woman cleaning the room. Yuri knocks lightly until she turns to him. "Excuse me? Wasn't Mila Babicheva here?" he could've gotten the wrong door.

The woman blinks at him before shaking her head. "No one in this room anymore. She left."

"Left?!" Yuri maybe shouts. The woman watches him with wide eyes. "Where to?"

"I-I don't know, sir, I was sent to clean the room-"

Yuri clicks his tongue, letting his eyes span the room for a second. No baggage next to the window, no toiletries on the study table. He turned on his heels and took the stairs to the lobby when the elevators were taking too long.

There's a couple checking in at the reception but Yuri uncerimonously shrugs past them. "Where's Mila Babicheva?"

The receptionist unimpressedly blinks at him. "Sir, you're disturbing our guests. And I'm sorry to inform but I can't divulge other guests' destinations."

Yuri scoffs and turns on his heels. The staff is eyeing him as though they wished they could give him a piece of their mind. It's never different. Yuri does the only thing he can think of and runs to the entrance. The doorman stands pristinely in place and only glances at him when he goes past the gyrating doors. " _Bonjour_ , did you see a woman leaving? Tall, red curls-" he trails off as the doorman points him to the pavement, where surely, a cab driver is loading his trunk. There's a silhouette sat on the backseat, the window open.

"Mila!" Yuri runs up to her.

"Yuri," Mila greets with a small smile. She has her hair up in a bun and is wearing sunglasses. She's probably way more hangover than Yuri. 

"What are you doing? I thought we were going back to St Petersburg together," Yuri exclaims, trying to fit himself through the backseat window.

Mila looks ahead and shakes her head. "I'm so sorry, Yuri. I'm going back to Moscow to see my parents. I had been thinking about taking a break lately. You know I need it."

"Mila, come on, stop that," Yuri opens her door. Mila holds his wrist back.

"Yuri, please, let me go. I'm just really tired. You understand that, don't you?"

Yuri can't believe her. Why was she doing this? "Mila-"

"There's nothing you can say that will change my mind," she argues over him. Still, she seems strangely calm about all this. Maybe she is just as tired as she said. 

Yuri doesn't know what else to say and lets his shoulders flag. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Mila is quick to say, "Yuri, no. I was stupid, this isn't your fault. I demand a lot of myself and when I don't get stuff I feel bad afterwards."

The driver takes his seat and stares at them expectantly through the rearview mirror. 

"What stuff, Mila?"

Mila shakes her head and says something to the driver in quick French. "I have to go, Yuri. Don't worry, I'll keep in touch. I just need some time away," she says, closes the door he's still holding open and leaves. Just like that. Yuri watches the car become smaller and smaller. 

In his pocket his cell phone vibrates. It's a message from Mila. She's said nothing, only sent an international number.

 _Beka_ , it says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be more Otabek next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to be too bold but today is my birthday! Here's my gift to you. Thanks for sticking with me!

The truth is: Yuri doesn't know what to do with Otabek's contact. He lets his finger hover over it and waits for something to happen and gets irritated when it doesn't. They hadn't exchanged phone numbers, so contacting him through it felt like an invasion of privacy. Did Mila tell him she would be sending Yuri his number? Did he ask her to? Yuri doesn't know the answer to any of those questions, so he ignores Mila's text.

Yakov had contacted him when he was on his way to the airport in Paris. He had heard of the rumors involving Otabek. It was probably the most embarrassing conversation he'd ever had with his agent. Yuri had to explain that no, they hadn't had sex, not even a little (though he doesn't really want to think about what a little of sex entails), no, he wasn't drugged, Otabek didn't take advantage of him. In the end, Yakov sighed and said he'd have to get in contact with Otabek's agent so they could deal with the situation.

"What situation?" Yuri asked, already knowing what it was about. Yakov pretended he didn't know Yuri was aware of it and explained the tabloids were going crazy with his and Otabek's "escape" from the party. 

"Can't a person give another a ride?"

"Sorry?!" Yakov splutters.

"Gods, Yakov, he left me at the hotel, that was all. Mila was with us, she's our witness."

Yakov grumbles. "Okay, we can build something on that."

"Build? That's the truth."

Yakov sighs, "Look, Yuri, you're young, you have money, you're allowed to do what you want. I wouldn't take that from you, but when you do just fucking please don't let people get incriminating photos of you."

"I didn't _let_ them! They simply did. Oh, come on, Yakov, you know what it's like."

"Fine. Point is: stay away from that boy for a while. I'll release a statement for the press saying he offered you and Mila a ride because you had too much to drink. It'll match his character anyway, he has the reputation of shitting flowers."

Yakov did as told and only earlier today the press was notified of what happened and had a couple hours to update the news and change their version of the facts. They did so to everyone's complete incredulity.

 _ **sakura14** : Why aren't people just capable of coming up and saying yes, we fucked, deal with it? I wouldn't be ashamed of having _ridden _Otabek Altin hahahahaah_ , some stupid person commented on the news' article.

Yuri rolled his eyes. He _doesn't_ care what people have to say. He doesn't mind when they call him a slut or a stuck-up bitch, they're all miserable people reading news on his life so he can't be that meaningless. It isn't worth losing his mind over. But what does get at him is that they can be so malicious as to shame him for saying the truth. They assume two people walking alongside each other are going to fuck?

It makes Yuri mad with fury, and despite Yakov's careful instructions, Yuri tweets furiously.

>   
>  **@yuri-plisetsky** :  
>  _back in st petersburg, caught a taxi. on my way to fuck the driver_  
>  _this guy walked next to me on the street. he was 70 but I fucked him too_  
>  _btw lilia's driver gave a ride from the airport. do u know what we did?_  
> 

Yakov manages to take them all down after a while, but that doesn't stop Yuri's followers from printing the screen. Strangely, he gains even more followers and his version starts to get the attention he was aiming for. After two days, naturally, it dies down.

 

-

 

It feels really good to be home. Yuri gets to see the same people he always saw, the same places he'd always visited but instead of being boring it feels safe. No matter what he does he'll still come back to his little piece of the world where everything moves and works exactly as he'd always known it to. 

Also, people don't bother him as much here. His neighbors know he lives there, his doorman frankly doesn't care and the rest of the people just look at him curiously before looking away without bothering. They had greeted him when he came back, some asked after his grandfather, who Yuri always kept in touch with, and that had been it.

Yuri's got a shoot scheduled for the day after. It's just an underwear campaign and the productors aren't picky with locations which means he can go down to wherever it was in St Petersburg, take some pictures in front of a white banner and they could edit them later. 

Yuri uses the spare time to go grocery shopping. His apartment is a mess which means he spends some time cleaning it too. He pays bills and watches shitty shows on Netflix. He doesn't blame Mila for wanting a break now, there's something liberating about going to bed knowing he won't have an alarm set up for tomorrow. 

Yuri walks down to his favorite coffeeshop. It's not a Starbucks but a cozy shop a few blocks away from his apartment. The interior is well decorated and the waitress has never asked for his autograph. The staff knows he comes here often and doesn't make a scandal out of it, knowing they had more to lose if they did. 

He takes a seat next to wall, where he always does. He asks for his usual coffee, black, no sugar. 

Yuri takes his sweet time sipping his coffee and scrolling down his phone. He receives an email from the Vogue productor informing him his cover shoot will be available next week and that a courtesy copy will be sent to him. Yuri sends him his grandfather's adress in Moscow and tells him to ship it to that. Yuri has no interest in seeing his own pictures, he's not that self-absorbed. 

He finds a nice ebook and starts on the first chapter when the waitress comes up to him. "Excuse me?" she says, and thrusts a fold of napkin forward, "a gentleman has asked me to send you this."

Frowning, Yuri takes it carefully. The waitress goes back to her spot next to counter to deliver the orders. Yuri swipes his eyes around the room but everything seems to be exactly how it was when he'd first stepped in. The couple with the sleeping baby at the far end, the thirty-something teacher quickly typing on her notebook and a mother with her teenage daughter. Suspiciously, Yuri unfolds the napkin.

 _You look beautiful when you blush_ , it's written in fast-paced yet concise cyrillic. 

Yuri, despite not wanting to, blushes. He folds the napkin back and stares firmly at the tabletop. After a minute he stands up and takes his coffee with him. Yuri looks at the only place he hadn't looked before: behind him. 

Otabek is sat with one ankle over his knee. He wears a coat with a scarf though it's not even that cold, fingerless gloves and the most shameless smile Yuri had ever seen. Yuri sets his coffee down in front of him.

"You can't see me blushing if you're staring at my back," Yuri justifies, taking the seat Otabek offers with a nod of his head. 

"That's the conclusion I was expecting you to come to."

Yuri settles deeper into his seat. Otabek looks homely, staring at him with those unreadable, dark eyes. 

"What brings you to St Petersburg?" Yuri asks, because it's the question that is currently eating at his mind.

Otabek smiles. "You know the answer to that."

"Your jacket?" Yuri teases.

"Yeah," Otabek leans with his elbows on the table, "my jacket," he completes, eyes never losing Yuri's. What the hell does he want with those looks of his? "Also, I accepted Victor's proposal."

"No, you didn't. Gods, you're an idiot," Yuri takes a sip of his coffee.

"He calls me around seven times a day to know what I've come up with," Otabek chuckles. 

Yuri raises his eyebrows pointedly, "well, what did I tell you?"

The waitress expertly shows up to ask if they'd like anything else, eyes going from Yuri to Otabek and then from Otabek to Yuri all over again. Yuri shakes his head and Otabek smiles up at her. "No, thank you." She blushes and scurries away. "I think I owe an apology."

Yuri frowns, "what the hell for?" Otabek hadn't done anything wrong. He searches his mind and understands. Oh. "It was not your fault," he says before Otabek can say anything.

Otabek smiles sadly. "I know. But it gives people the wrong idea," Yuri opens his mouth but Otabek continues before he can speak up, "though I know you don't care about what other people say."

Yuri nods, satisfied. "You've done your homework."

Otabek's grin increases. "You have no idea."

Yuri flushes furiously. Gods, he hates it when Otabek says those stuff like he means thirty different things in a couple words. Yuri clears his throat lightly. "How did you know I was going to be here?"

"Victor told me."

Yuri rolls his eyes, "Of course that bastard would."

"It's a nice place," Otabek takes a quick look around, "though I should warn you our waitress has recognized us and keeps sending looks our way."

"Shit," Yuri turns around on his seat, and yeah, there she is, caught red-handed as she looks promptly away when meeting Yuri's eyes. Yuri sighs. 

"Before you I say anything about leaving," Otabek raises his keys up to eye level, "would you mind if I gave you a ride?"

Yuri studies him for a second, biting his bottom lip before smirking. 

 

-

 

"What the fuck?" 

Otabek doesn't look like he understood Yuri, eyes going from his motorcycle to Yuri's face and to the spare helmet he's offering him. 

"You ride a motorcycle?" Yuri asks, unecessarily pointing at the vehicle.

"Yeah," Otabek frowns, "I'm sorry, don't you like it? We can walk, I'm not thinking about going too far-"

"Do you have a tattoo?" Yuri asks, short of breath.

Otabek smirks, "No, Yuri, no tattoo."

"Damn," Yuri murmurs, "that would've completed the stereotype. So that means you're one of those assholes that go around nicking other people's side mirrors, hn?"

Otabek laughs and mounts his motorcycle. It's absolutely black, glinting under the cloudy St Petersburg afternoon like the wings of a beatle. Yuri isn't gonna say what the sight of Otabek's powerful thighs around that makes him feel. "You grab onto my waist, okay?" Otabek's saying, putting on his own helmet.

"Are you sure I'm not going to fall off that?" Yuri eyes the vehicle suspiciously. He's never understood how those things work, two wheels shouldn't have enough balance to carry one person least of all two. Right, he didn't weigh much, but still... 

The corner of Otabek's eyes crinkle through his visor, which means he's smiling. "I'm sure. Hold onto me, I won't let you fall. Here, let me help you," he motions for Yuri to approach. Yuri steps up to him and Otabek helps him put his helmet in place, clasping it securely around his head. Yuri feels like his head has grown two sizes bigger and heavier. "Climb up behind me," Otabek instructs.

Yuri throws one leg over it and gingerly seats behind Otabek, who is thankfully supporting the motorcycle with both his feet on the ground. People pass them by without paying them mind. Yuri feels like his body is going to overheat. There isn't much space for him to wiggle around, so his front is actually stuck to Otabek's back. And Yuri will say: perhaps this wasn't a bad idea at all. 

Otabek takes his hands off the handles to guide Yuri's hands to his waist, "Don't be shy now," he teases, squeezing Yuri's fingers in his gloved hands. Yuri tsks and tries to kick him, which makes Otabek almost lose control over the motorcycle.

"Please don't do this while I'm driving," Otabek says and Yuri laughs. "For the record, now I'm _really_ taking you for a ride. You can close your eyes if it becomes too much."

Yuri reaches around Otabek's waist to tap the bottom of his helmet. "Shut up and drive, big boy."

 

-

 

Yuri doesn't know how he is still alive. He's never thought he would take a ride in a motorcycle before. His grandfather absolutely despised the stuff, and wouldn't be happy to know Yuri had ever been on one of them. But fuck, isn't it hot. And with Otabek driving, keeping his head firmly ahead, speeding down the road and making smooth curves Yuri almost melted.

Yuri eyes the place they've come to suspiciously. "Where are we?" he asks, still sitting at the motorcycle, both legs to the side and Otabek in front of him, unclasping his helmet. 

Otabek takes a wild look around. "I think it's a park. It looked like it when I was searching."

"Oh." Yuri doesn't know if it really is a park. It looks like it, with gravel pathways and a garden, trees everywhere and the occasional bench. But it looks so somber. Yuri shrugs and freezes when Otabek steps up between his legs to help him out of his helmet. His hair spills around in a mess and Yuri tries to comb it back in place as well as he can with his fingers. 

Otabek laughs. "Don't, it's a good look on you," he pleads, but doesn't try to bat Yuri's hands away, instead resting them on the hollow of Yuri's knees as he watches him. He looks insanely sexy, and Yuri bets he does too. Well, he's a model, he's in shape, he's wearing leggings and Otabek's hands feel a little bold, but very good on his knees, and with him standing between Yuri's legs and giving him that _look_ , Yuri just very much wishes they could go back to his place once this was done. 

Otabek pats Yuri's knee and helps him out of the motorcycle. They walk side by side for a while, and Yuri doesn't know if he should reach up for Otabek's hand. It keeps brushing his and both are pretending they're ignoring it. 

The park is desert save for pidgeons nipping at the floor and some ducks floating on the cold lake. Well, they weren't looking for publicity so this fit their purpose though it was a little creepy. "Otabek," Yuri calls and Otabek hums in response. "I think people use this park to do drugs."

Otabek grins. "Probably."

Yuri whips his head around to him. "Doesn't it bother you?"

"I worked in clubs for the biggest part of my life. I've seen it all, Yuri."

Yuri stares at the ground. He had a bit of reason there. "By the way," Yuri kicks an errant stone to the side, "why did you become a DJ?"

Otabek watches him fondly. "Well, that's a long story," he scratches the back of his head shyly. Yuri glances at him pointedly. "Okay," Otabek pauses, heading to a bench overlooking the lake. Yuri follows him. "Growing up I was this very silent kid," he begins, throwing an arm at the bench behind Yuri. Yuri smiles to himself. "Nothing really interested me in school so I decided I should try sports."

"Sports?" Yuri questions with a raised eyebrow. Otabek has what it takes to be an athlete, but he'd never have thought he actually tried it out.

Otabek nods, "Boxing."

Okay, Yuri will take two doses of his suppressant today. He feels he's about to go into heat by the sheer exposure to Otabek and his effortless sex appeal. 

"I even won a junior championship for Kazakhstan. Bronze though," he shrugs, "Good enough for someone who'd already decided he wouldn't make a profession out of it." Otabek pauses, "My father used to have a band when he was younger," he grins up at Yuri as if inviting him to laugh along at the absurdity of his father doing that. "He'd always liked music. It wasn't a big deal after all. He married my mother when he was still really young and had to start a family. Eventually he realized music wasn't enough to support us.

So he started working 'a real job', as my mother would call it. But he made sure to teach all of his children what he knew. He taught me how to play guitar first. I was like, six. And then piano, which my mother secretly loves, and then all sorts of stuff. My older sister didn't like it the way I did. She'd always wanted to be a lawyer. But there was something mesmerizing about music to me. My father was very proud when I decided I wanted to be a musician. My mother not so much," he grimaces, "she's a woman of difficult genius. Reminds me of someone," he gives Yuri a pointed, sly glance.

"I remind you of your mother?" Yuri smacks his arm. They had been going so well.

Otabek laughs, "your determination, I meant."

Yuri lets it pass. Otabek hastens to continue the story, "Then I started partying," he smirked up at Yuri, "went to lots of clubs, started watching the guys do it and then suddenly, I was already one of them."

"That's it?" Yuri asks. He hadn't been expecting a journey of self-discovery through meditation but he can't deny it's very bland. 

"That's how things happen, I think. Why did you decide you wanted to be a model?"

Yuri averts his eyes. He knows it was a question bound to come up, even more so if Otabek had opened up to talk about his life decisions. He would be expecting retribution. "Well, I was always very skinny," Otabek grins, "that's not a joke," Yuri continues and smacks his arm again. 

"So, my mother said I should take some pictures to see what happened. We were very poor in Moscow. My father was never around and it was just me, my mother and grandfather. It didn't work out," Yuri grimaces. "I was too young, like, five years old. My mother got tired of waiting. So she left and it was just me and my grandfather," Yuri doesn't look up at Otabek. He hates this part as much as he hates the pity party that follows, "I didn't want to try again. Modeling is very dangerous when you're not big enough, you wouldn't believe some of the stories I know. Everyone is very young and doesn't know how the world turns. Most of the people I knew from back then ended up becoming prostitutes," he glances up to see that Otabek is listening to him with the utmost attention. "And then later, when I was fifteen, a friend of my grandfather's said he knew someone who could help me. It was Yakov. He's been my agent since and now here I am." Yuri finishes lamely.

Otabek is still staring at him. "Please, don't say you're sorry," Yuri cuts in. 

Otabek shakes his head. "I'm not. Yuri, you're way stronger than I thought. That's what really makes you beautiful."

That's probably the nicest thing someone's said to him. Yuri'd had lovers and exes before, and Yuri thought he knew what it meant to be complimented when they said nice things about his body or his face. But it doesn't really compare to having someone think the most attractive in him is his bravery. Oh, gods. If only _The People Reporter_ knew.

Otabek's phone rings and breaks whatever trance they'd been lost in. He actually blushes. "I'm sorry, my sister's wedding is coming up."

Yuri nods, averting his gaze when Otabek answers. He sees an old man approaching, walking with difficulty and holding out a bouquet of flowers. Yuri frowns, following him with his eyes. Over at the place where the man is heading Yuri can see stone statues of angels and saints. Oh, fuck.

"Yes, Maya. I don't know. I'll be back in a few weeks for the wedding," Otabek is saying into his phone. Yuri waits until he finishes his call. "Sorry," he says once it's done, pocketing his phone and moving closer to Yuri. "Where were we?"

"Otabek," Yuri says, "I think we're in a cemitery."

 

-

 

"I'm so sorry."

Yuri laughs, "It's okay. It was the most unpredictable first date I've ever had," he hesitates, only then realizing what he'd said. Oh, but it was a first date, wasn't it? Whatever, now he'd already said it. Otabek is giving him those _eyes_ again, loading his and Yuri's helmets back on his motorcycle. They were in front of Yuri's building. Yuri has the feeling the doorman is watching them. 

Otabek leans against his bike, hands in his pockets and eyes still on Yuri. "I'm glad you liked it. You did, didn't you?"

Yuri nods. They're only a few feet away from each other. Yuri really wants to close the distance between them. So he does, stepping up into Otabek and being careful not to let their bodies touch. Otabek looks down at his face, eyes glued to Yuri's lips. 

"Do you want to come up?" Yuri asks lowly, sending surreptitious glances around. He's not sure if Otabek is gonna answer in the affirmative or not. Either way he looks like he _really_ wants to kiss Yuri, and Yuri _really_ wants to kiss him back. But he'd prefer to do it inside, where no one can see them. "I'm not making coffee though," Yuri elaborates because Otabek still hasn't said anything, "My coffee is shit."

Otabek laughs lowly, the sound sending trickles of something very good down Yuri's spine. He cups Yuri's cheek and Yuri really is about to press the fuck it and go for it. Except Otabek tips Yuri's face to the side to whisper in his ear. "I prefer tea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I still haven't answered all your comments. I'm trying to keep this up as fast as possible. They're very much appreciated, that's for sure, I read them all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rate has gone _up_.

The doorman, contrary to what Yuri had believed, is actually playing candy crush on his phone and if it interests him that Yuri is taking a guy up with him he doesn't show it. Otabek looks taller inside Yuri's building, standing beside him with his hands inside his pockets as the elevator makes its descent. It's thankfully empty when it arrives at their floor. Yuri didn't want to test how nosy his neighbors could be though he'd sung them praises before. 

Yuri leans against the wall as Otabek eyes the interior. He presses the fifth floor button and they wait in silence. Yuri flicks his eyes to Otabek's, who smiles upon catching him. The elevator finally arrives at its destination after what felt like two hours. Yuri digs for his keys and leads the way down the hallway. He unlocks his door and takes a few steps inside, switching on the lights and offering Otabek entrance.

Otabek steps in and takes polite looks around. "It's still a bit of a mess," Yuri hastens to say, "I only came back a few days ago and haven't done much around it." The living room looks like he'd left it: his dark faux leather couch, the ottoman that is usually cluttered with stuff but now only housed a dirty cup of coffee from this morning and a couple courtesy magazines from previous shoots. The rug is leopard print and only now Yuri thinks it might come across as very flashy. The walls, at least, are white, though Yuri had had plans of painting them purple before an interior decorator actually refused to work for him. 

"It's nice," Otabek smiles.

"It's totally flashy, isn't it?"

Otabek grimaces, "I would prefer to say it's very stylish."

Yuri stares at him, "You're actually trying, aren't you?"

Otabek sighs, "Very hard."

Yuri laughs. "Would you like anything? Water- Oh, I'll prepare your tea."

"Can I leave this by the door?" Otabek asks, holding out his helmet. 

Yuri nods and leads the way to the kitchen. He sets the water to boil and opens the cupboard for his mugs. "Which one?" he shows them to Otabek. He had three cat mugs, one tiger one and a Yoda one. Otabek chooses Yoda. 

"I thought you had a cat," Otabek says, leaning against the counter as Yuri sets his mug on it. 

"I did," Yuri searches for the teabags. "But I had to leave her behind in Moscow with my grandfather. She would've stayed by herself for too long in here." Yuri really misses his cat, but at least she's got constant company in the form of his grandfather and kept him company as well. Yuri frowns, "how did you know I had a cat?"

Otabek's lips quirk shyly up into a smile. "I read it somewhere."

Yuri pauses, leaning against the counter opposite Otabek. "You said, before when we met, that you had heard of me," Otabek nods, "How?"

"Well," Otabek shifts, eyeing Yuri's kitchen tiles, "I was really bored this time in JFK waiting for my flight when I spotted this gorgeous blonde on some perfume add. Then I went to a bookstore and what was my surprise when I saw his face again stamped on a magazine."

"Did you buy it?"

Otabek nods, "It was a good interview. Short, but good. I liked the photos better though."

Yuri watches him from under his eyelashes. Otabek retributes the look in the same intensity. "Really? I can't remember which one it was. What was I wearing in it?"

Otabek's eyes are hazy. "Close to nothing," he says, almost in a growl, and then licks his bottom lip, "But if I had to guess I would say a red panty."

Yuri shifts his weight between his legs. The kettle begins to whistle beside him. "Ah," he murmurs, eyes still fixed on Otabek's. The distance between them feels really big. "That one."

Yuri turns to get the water. He prepares Otabek's tea and sets a mug for himself so it would be polite even though Yuri didn't like tea. He feels Otabek's presence behind him and does his best to appear unaffected. Otabek reaches for his mug and sets his other hand beside Yuri, effectively trapping him in. Yuri calmly seeps his tea. Otabek's warm breath on the back of his neck makes his skin prickle with goosebumps, his heartbeat speed up, but keeping a cool head is the heart of the matter.

"Do you still have that magazine?" Yuri murmurs, even though the thick air that has fallen around them is heavy enough to indicate the answer. 

Otabek hums hotly next to his ear, letting the tip of his nose run up the shell. Yuri shivers and inclines his head the littlest bit to the side to allow him more room. Gods, but this man was gonna be the death of him. "I took it to Almaty with me when I visited my family," Otabek whispers, "my mother found it and threw it away." Otabek's body isn't touching Yuri's save for his nose but Yuri can feel him there, looming behind him like a blanket too big, an inviting warmth waiting to cover him from head to toe. His fingers feel sweaty around the mug's handle and he tightens his hold on it. "What a pity."

"Did you like it?" Yuri asks, angling his head away when Otabek lunges for his ear again.

"Come on, Yuri," Otabek mumbles, huffing impatiently, "You must know. Surely you know what you do to me."

"Unfortunately," Yuri turns to face him, back against the counter and both of Otabek's arms beside him, "I don't."

Otabek's eyes are charged, he's staring so intently at Yuri. "Do you want me to tell you?"

Yuri eyes him teasingly, smirking and biting his bottom lip. He sets a finger on Otabek's lips and uses it as leverage to push him back lightly. "Why don't you try your tea first?" he reaches for the mug and hands it to Otabek. 

Otabek flicks his eyes to the mug and then back to Yuri. He ends up taking it from Yuri's grasp, making sure their fingers touch. Yuri uses the opportunity to escape from around his arms. "Careful," he twirls on his heels before exiting the kitchen to warn Otabek, "It's very hot."

 

-

 

Otabek follows Yuri to the living room to find him already sat on the sofa, legs on top of the ottoman. He flicks his gaze up to Otabek and smirks slyly. Otabek sets his empty mug next to Yuri's feet pointedly. "It was delicious," he says.

Yuri lifts an eyebrow up at him and uncrosses his legs to allow Otabek passage to sit beside him. Otabek does so and stretches his arm on the back of Yuri's sofa like he'd done at the park earlier. Yuri rolls his eyes and wonders if he ever notices that he does that. 

"When are you going back for your sister's wedding?" Yuri asks.

Otabek scratches the back of his head. "In two weeks."

Yuri hums. He sips from his tea before giving up on it entirely and leaving it unfinished on top of the ottoman. "Have you heard from Mila?" he asks. Yuri hadn't really gotten into contact with her since Paris. He'd asked how her break was going a few days ago and received something of a cold answer.

Otabek winces and shakes his head. "Not really. I've been busy."

"Right, preying after me in coffeeshops," Yuri rolls his eyes. Otabek watches him out of the corner of his eye, a heady, sensuous gaze. Yuri isn't about to ignore what is going on here: they have been tiptoeing around each other all day long. Yuri wants it, Otabek wants it. They're alone in his apartment. A receipt for tragedy, or as it seems, for victory. Yuri sets his mug down on the ottoman, pulling his legs up to fold on the sofa and facing Otabek. "What do you even do?"

Otabek hums, scratching at his Adam's apple. "Well, I've just finished reading Victor's script to get a semblance of what he wants in the story. Then I should start playing stuff for the pieces until I finally get it all together. I'll hand the papers to him and the orchestra will record it," Otabek shrugs, "it's more than just preying on you. Though it helps a lot."

Yuri lifts an eyebrow teasingly. He inches closer and leans his head on the sofa's backrest, which is actually occupied by Otabek's arm, his hair spilling over the back of the sofa and head resting against Otabek's elbow. "Really? I can't see how."

"Well," Otabek pauses, gaze lingering on Yuri's lips, "Yuri, you've become something of my muse."

Yuri actually snorts. "Oh gods, you're so fucking corny," Otabek laughs, "you're really, really corny, how can you stand yourself?"

"It's called being a romantic," Otabek interjects, making his point when reaching out to comb Yuri's hair gently away from his face, where some strands had been falling. 

"I don't like romance," Yuri confesses in a low voice, tilting his head further into Otabek's arm; Otabek's big, warm hand now losing all pretense of playing with his hair and sliding down to cup Yuri's face. He looks impossibly handsome like this, staring at Yuri as though he's mesmerizing. And maybe for that moment, for Otabek's eyes alone, Yuri was. 

"No, you don't," Otabek affirms, with the same certainty he seems to possess around everything Yuri. "You like boldness," he's saying, quirking a corner of his lip up as his thumb rubs at the soft skin of Yuri's cheek. "I can do boldness too."

Yuri knows he must look like he _really_ wants to get laid now but he can't blame himself for being so expressive. Otabek is exactly what that fan had said about him, what was it? _Hotness incarnate_. He's dark and private but handsome and deep and has a strong game. Yuri hadn't been waiting for that, for the absolute weight of his gaze, unmistakable as it followed every contour of Yuri's body. He hadn't been waiting for this unexplicable mix of gentleness and blunt flirting that is so sharp at the edges and so consuming in itself. 

"Do you know what I came here to get, Yuri?" Otabek murmurs, letting his thumb slither down to the corner of Yuri's mouth, swiping it over Yuri's soft bottom lip. Gods, why didn't he just kiss Yuri already? He was sending all the signals and Yuri wasn't rejecting him. Otabek leans closer, closer and closer until his breath is brushing Yuri's lips. Time seems to stop, the cushions rustling softly as Otabek's body inclined towards Yuri.

Yuri shut his eyes, inebriated with the smell of Otabek's cologne, so close. He grasped at Otabek's wrist loosely, felt his hot breath scurry down his face sensually. 

"My jacket," Otabek whispers in his ear.

"Oh, go fuck yourself!" Yuri exclaims, but he can't help laughing. 

Otabek laughs too, deep and languid as Yuri tries to valiantly disentangle himself from his arms. But Otabek pulls him closer and kisses him. There's a lot of hair in the way and they have to stop, chuckle and try and get it back in place. Otabek isn't inhibited by the situation, using the most of Yuri's distraction to pull him by the neck and kiss him really, really nicely. Yuri is still trying to fight his smile so they can't quite get the angles right right away. Otabek seems frustrated that he still hasn't been able to insert his tongue in the play but Yuri finally gets a hold of himself to make it happen. He had intended to swipe his tongue over Otabek's bottom lip, and actually does so before Otabek plucks his tongue into his mouth.

Yuri hums, using both hands to pull his own hair up as Otabek catches him by the waist. Oh, that's more like it. 

Otabek kisses with the same fervent passion of his looks, it seems. Or maybe he's just _really_ hungry for Yuri. Whichever it is, Yuri doesn't mind in the least, pulling him closer with both hands in his hair as Otabek sucks on his tongue, the wet, smacking noises of their kisses permeating the room. It feels _so good_. 

They're in an awkward position, Yuri's folded knees on Otabek's thigh, Otabek's head to the side to get more and more of him with every swipe of his tongue. They barely pull apart and when they do it is only to catch more breath before continuing, their wet, red lips hovering over the other. 

They go on and on for a long time, Yuri's body beginning to feel like a furnace inside his clothes. There's no way Otabek isn't about to get a crick in his neck though he maintains the same enthusiasm for every kiss. Yuri feels obligated to change the way things were.

At first Otabek looks confused, fearful even when Yuri pulls apart. He makes a tiny _'oh'_ but looks reverently up at Yuri when Yuri throws one leg over his lap. Kneeling over Otabek's legs gives Yuri more leverage and he smiles down at him when Otabek smiles up at him, showing teeth in a giant beam when Yuri slides the front of his body down over Otabek's, whose hands slide up the back of Yuri's thighs. "Oh, yeah," Otabek breathes, looking like Christmas had come earlier - if he celebrated Christmas at all.

Yuri chuckles provocatively, pulling the length of his hair to one side and letting their lips rest over the other. Otabek, not as innocent as he seems, nibbles at his lips repeatedly. Yuri hums, cupping both sides of Otabek's face in his hands. "Yeah?" he mumbles absentmindedly and Otabek responds by squeezing the back of his thighs firmly. 

Yuri is careful not to sit on Otabek's crotch when they reinitiate their kisses. He doesn't know how far they'll going here though he really wanted to know if he'd feel a hardon if he did it. Most importantly, how _big_ it would be. But Otabek is such a good kisser, twining their tongues together, teasing Yuri's lips with the edge of his teeth, that Yuri doesn't really care. 

In the end, they don't do anything other than make out until they've run out of breath, Otabek with his face buried in Yuri's neck as he peppers wet open-mouthed kisses to his throat and Yuri with his head hanging, trying to reccuperate his breath. What the fuck is this and when Yuri will get more?

"Ok, ok," he says, pulling at Otabek's jaw until he disconnects his lips from Yuri's throat. Yuri flops down on the sofa, legs over Otabek's lap as he stares up at his ceiling. God exists. And his name is Otabek Altin.

Otabek is catching his breath too, scarf forgotten over the armrest. Yuri doesn't remember when he'd taken out his coat but he's actually just in a black, long-sleeved undershirt that clings to his chest. Otabek shouldn't wear black so much, at least not outside of Yuri's vision field, he looks indecent. 

Otabek is staring at Yuri's TV, lips lifting in a smile as he seems to be remembering something very good. He cups Yuri's kneecaps. "That bold enough for you?" he asks and Yuri kicks him in the thigh.

Afterwards Yuri accompanies him down to the lobby. Both their lips are red and swollen and anyone that looks at them can tell what they had been up to. Yuri, for all the care he was supposed to have in these sort of situations, is happy about that. They walk together to the elevator, closer than they had been before, Otabek's side brushing Yuri's arm as his hand seems to have made a home out of Yuri's hipbone. He carries his helmet in his other hand and taps his foot against the carpet when the elevator takes some time to arrive at their floor.

"Impatient to go?" Yuri can't help teasing. He feels lighter than he'd ever felt in months, years even.

Otabek turns to give him an incredulous look before huffing and pulling him by the hip to kiss again. They break apart when the elevator's doors make the familiar parting sound. Yuri's neighbor from the second floor, the one he suspected was a member of his fanbase, is standing inside it, mouth actually hanging open as she takes in the sight of them.

"Hi," Yuri smiles. 

She fumbles to answer, cheeks red as a tomato. 

"What's your name?" Yuri asks.

"I-Irina."

"Well, Irina," Yuri smiles angelically, "if I see this up in the internet I'll know it was you. Ok?"

Irina makes a startled sound and keeps her eyes down all the way to the lobby. 

Otabek puts on his helmet while looking at Yuri. "You have my number, don't you?" he asks, throwing one leg over his motorcycle. That sight is never gonna be unattractive to Yuri's retinas. Never. 

Yuri nods. "Mila gave it to me."

Otabek stares at the pavement pensively before starting on the engine. "Did she?" Yuri doesn't reaffirm it. "Well," Otabek continues, the corner of his eyes crinkling at the corners, "do I get a good night kiss? Or is it too bold?"

Yuri flips him off but at the last minute clicks a kiss to his helmet where his mouth should be. "Good night, asshole. Come back for your jacket."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The perfume add Otabek was talking about was [this one](http://m.sephora.com/productimages/product/p395212-av-01-hero.jpg), which I saw a few days ago in the street and thought: Yuri. Imagine him there but without the boobs, a little bit fairer and with his delicate featured face, of course. That's my model!yuri for you guys.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating this. College is back and I'm also working in a lab so that leaves me with pretty much no time to breathe. This might be shorter than the others.

Yuri wakes up the next morning to the sound of his phone going off. He grumbles onto his pillow and lets it ring for a while. It's not usual for him to receive any calls. The only person who ever calls him is his grandfather and even old Nikolai had started to Skype him whenever he wanted to talk. The thought that his grandfather might the one trying to reach him has Yuri lifting his head and gropping for his phone. 

"Yeah?" Yuri mumbles, sitting up on his bed and scratching his eye. The sunlight filters through the window and Yuri squints at it.

"Yuri," it's Yakov, the tone of his voice enough to show he's pissed off for some reason. Oh, here we go. "Have you seen the papers?"

Yuri doesn't hide his groan and flops back on the bed. "What papers, Yakov? You've just fucking waked me up."

"I told you to stay away from that boy," Yakov goes on.

Yuri's heart does a summersault. "What boy?"

Yakov sighs. "For god's sake. The damn DJ, Yuri."

"Oh," Yuri smirks, recalling the phantom touch of Otabek's hands on him, "yes, the DJ. What do they have on us?"

Yakov might be actually frothing. "Evidence. Incriminating evidence."

"Pictures? How many?"

"Two."

Yuri hums. "When you say incriminating..."

"You two," Yakov cuts in, "leaving a shop together."

Yuri snorts. Yakov and his old ways. "Incriminating, my ass." 

"Yuri, this is very serious. If you're having an affair with that boy-"

"Oh, what? What would you do?"

Yakov growls at the other end of the line, clearly lost as to what he'd do if that was the case. Yakov is addicted to threatening, Yuri has called him out on it before. "Just-just, figure yourself out! And in the process don't let anyone else take pictures of you."

Yuri hangs up. They had two photos of him and Otabek leaving the coffee shop, probably. Big deal. Yuri winces at the amount of shit people are probably saying. Can't he grab a coffee with a guy he met before? Do they assume every time he does walk out somewhere with someone in tow they are going to fuck? And if they did, what was their business with it?

As soon as Yuri opens up his social media he finds what Yakov had been talking about. Yuri is impressed with himself though, they've made front page of a gossip website, a hot pink frame around the two pictures of Otabek straddling his motorcycle while staring at Yuri, standing beside him, and then helping Yuri put on his helmet.

> _**Are they doing It?** _

Yuri gags at the imbecile title, but he should've saved it for the end of the text.

 _Baranovskaya's new face, **Yuri Plisetsky** (22),  who shot in Venice for Vogue's last edition, was seen accompanied by **Otabek Altin** (25) as they left a coffeeshop in St Petersburg yesterday. The DJ and  voted 2017's hottest musician, Altin was in the city to compose for **Victor Nikiforov** 's (30) new movie production. The couple met at the Paris Fashion Week after-party (image) and have been appointed to be **secretly dating** ever since. An intimate friend claims Altin to be _ completely besotted _with the Russian beauty, having even gifted him a $35,000 diamond collar necklace!_

What the _hell_?

Did they think people were walking out and about giving other people they've met once $35,000 jewelry? "An intimate friend", right, that was probably something they came up with to spread sensationalist crap on them. 

Yuri had sent Otabek a good night message yesterday, complete with a selfie of him going to bed in his black Metallica shirt and his sleeping leopard print shorts. He had been thinking about sending a good morning one today but now actually thinks twice. This left them at such an awkward situation. They did make out in Yuri's apartment, at least that was hidden from the media (thanks Irina, second floor neighbor), but they weren't secretly dating and the thought that people had been labelling what they had before _they_ even did was reason enough to leave Yuri anxious. 

"Oh, fucking crap," Yuri gets up from his bed to make coffee. His phone vibrates on the counter, fans tagging him on their shit.

_**@yuriop54** : omg!!! **@yuri-plisetsky** nd **otabek-altin** rlly r together! **@golden-altin** u owe us fifty bucks!_

_**@queenyuri** : it was ' 'just a ride' ' alrght_

Yuri huffs, sipping at his mug of coffee in the balcony. The wind blows faintly and his hair swings with it. He's got a shoot scheduled for today but it's not due until the evening. Even though he knew he shouldn't, Yuri scrolls through his feed, frown deepening the further he reads. The most curious one comes from a man claiming to have met Otabek in his boxing days and saying he'd always had a thing for blondes. Yuri finally just lets it go and finishes his coffee. His phone vibrates and Yuri doesn't check it until he's already showered and laid back in his living room.

It's Otabek.

_Yuri, do you like diamonds?  
I've got you something but I'm not sure if you're going to like it._

Yuri laughs. _shut up you idiot_ , he types back. 

_It wasn't cheap and they don't accept devolutions._

_go fuck yourself_

Yuri grins at the screen, waiting impatiently for Otabek to finish typing.

 _By the way, you look good even in unsolicited photographs._

Yuri huffs. _really? maybe I'll become a model ;p_

 _What are you doing today?_ , Otabek asks.

_I've got a shoot later  
in the evening_

Otabek doesn't say anything else immediately and Yuri fidgets. _and you?_ , he asks.

_I'll pick someone up in the evening.  
If that's all right? _

Yuri laughs, throwing his head back, _bring me my diamonds and I might consider it_.

_Always knew you'd like it._

 

-

 

Yuri is past feeling uncomfortable by being seminaked in front of strangers. He's a professional model. He'd done underwear a couple times before - like for the magazine shoot Otabek had seen -, but he'd never advertised one of them. It was designer, just a couple boxers and panties for omegas. They had asked him for bras too but Yakov had categorically denied it until it was cut off the contract. Yuri had no breasts to speak of. He hated it when people saw him as a manly girl and not as a man that could birth children if he so wished.

Yuri feels a thrum of excitement in the bottom of his stomach when he's about to finish the shoot, posing for one last time, holding his hair up and cocking his hip to display his backside to the camera. "Great," the photographer says and the shoot is over.

Yuri changes back into his clothes hastily, putting on Otabek's jacket. He'd decided to wear it as a taunt. And also because he looked hot in it - or so he wished Otabek would find -, a crop top and red leather pants. Yuri waits until the staff opens the camera roll and deems the photos good enough. A girl who seems to be the manager or something asks him if he'd like her to call him a cab. Yuri shakes his head. 

"I've already got a ride."

If she's read the tabloids she knows how to hide her suspicions. Yuri had texted Otabek the address earlier and now waits by the lobby for him. It's a comercial building downtown St Petersburg and as Yuri scrolls down his phone lots of people in social clothes pass him by. 

_Bring Otabek to dinner_ , his phone pinges with the message. Victor.

Yuri's fingers hover over the keyboard. _I don't know what you're talking abt_ , he finally types back.

_Yes you do!!! Otabek has made excuses_  
_He can only be going out with you._

Yuri fumes. _that's none of your fucking business. stay away, nikiforov_. 

_Yuriiii, plzzzzzz_  
we have an announcement to make  
me and my Yuuri 

_you and your yuuri can go_ -, Yuri pauses on his typing when the sound of a motorcycle engine becomes louder. Through the darkened glass walls Yuri can see the silhouette of a biker pulling up by the curb. He pulls the jacket's lapels closer to his body and walks out. 

Otabek is leaning against his bike, blowing on his hands to warm them - he's foregone his gloves - and taking cursory looks around. 

"Hey," Yuri greets him. 

Otabek smirks when spoting him, leaning away from his bike. "Hey," he calls back smoothly. 

He's a sight for sore eyes. Yuri steps up to him. He doesn't know if they should kiss, they are in public after all, but they don't look at each other with the eyes of two people who aren't about to kiss until the end of the night. Otabek breaks their eyelock and clears his throat, once more flicking his gaze around before reaching back for his bike. "So," he says, "I really did get you something."

Yuri balks. "Shit, you didn't need to. It was a joke-"

Otabek pulls out his spare helmet, once plain black and now covered in leopard print. "Fuck," Yuri can't help reaching for it. Otabek laughs, a hint of white teeth that he uses to bite the corner of his bottom lip. 

"I had an inkling you would like it," he shrugs, "it's not a diamond but."

Yuri hums. "It's better than a diamond," he says, and then blushes terribly. Oh, what? He liked leopard print a lot. And Otabek had seemingly noticed that and decided to do something nice for him. Again, it didn't involve any of the grand, expensive gestures people expected out of a celebrity couple because they were so much more than that. 

Otabek watches him fondly, cheeks tinged red. His gaze is worth a thousand words. He pinches Yuri's cheek and teases him. "Look who's getting corny."

Yuri laughs and bats him away.

 

-

 

Otabek takes him to a small Thai restaurant, lodged between a florist shop and a tattoo and piercing studio. It's small and comfortable, and obviously a place where people didn't recognize them or simply didn't care what they did out of their lives as long as they paid the bill. 

"I didn't get it wrong this time," Otabek says as he lays his napkin on his lap. He'd looked it up in the internet apparently, just as he had last time, the cemetery. Yuri notices that Otabek is always careful to pick unassuming locations. He can't blame him. They hadn't mentioned the tabloids' explosion with their pictures today and the air around them isn't filled with unspoken tension about it so Yuri will avoid the topic with all he has.

"No. You're getting good at this," Yuri smirks. He fingers the menu for a while. Otabek peruses his own across him. "Do you like Thai food?"

Otabek hums but doesn't take his eyes away from the menu. "There was a nice one in Almaty. Used to go there with my friends," he smiles. Yuri recognizes that face, it's the face of homesickness. He's pulled it out too before, more times than he could count.

"How long since you've last been there?" Yuri asks. Otabek looks up to answer him but a waitress comes to settle glasses of water in front of them. He waits until she's gone. 

"More than six months."

Yuri hisses, "shit. Sorry about that."

Otabek shrugs. "I knew what I was getting myself into. But I miss my friends. And my family too though my mother calls me everyday and claims she doesn't sleep if she hasn't heard my voice that day," Otabek rolls his eyes at the admition, but he looks slightly embarrassed for revealing that, a tiny blush up his cheeks. "And my little sister has to keep her friends updated on my life so she messages me about fifty times a day."

"You have a small sister?" Yuri raises his eyebrows, playing with his glass' straw.

Otabek nods, "She's six." He shows Yuri pictures of her on his phone. She looks just like him but with a gaping teeth smile. Yuri isn't a fan of children. They're cute from a five miles distance and that is only until they start crying, or wailing or stomping their feet and being stubborn little brats. But Otabek's sister looks nice enough. Yuri coos appropriately.

In the end they decide upon the same dish, a sort of soup that smells foul but strangely tastes good. Hot food doesn't usually suit Yuri's stomach but he goes for it all the same, pulling the sleeves of Otabek's jacket back and getting his pink hairpin (a gift from Mila) to pull his hair in place so he can duck to eat. Otabek stares at him with a particular, unerring gaze before smiling and going for his own food.

"I've been told that I eat like a caveman before," Yuri addresses the subject, humming at the food, "so you don't have to feel bad for drawing the same conclusion."

Otabek laughs. "Don't worry, I can hardly judge. I was worse than you."

Yuri snorts. "You, polite little shit? Look at you, with a fucking napkin on your lap. You have to use it like a bib if you want to be a true barbarian."

"Don't doubt me," Otabek grins. "My mother had to severely school me so I could get where I am. By the way," Otabek mentions, sipping from his water before tipping his chin towards Yuri and liking his lips. "Did anyone ever tell you you look good in leather?"

Yuri knows Otabek means the jacket but he splutters all the same, taking gulpful of water while Otabek sits there and grins like the cat that got the cream. Okay, so Yuri is not sure he meant _only_ the jacket. 

"I don't think I ever told you about that night in Paris," Otabek continues. He has barely touched his food, apparently too enamored with the sight of Yuri demolishing his meal. "I had never been to one of those fashion weeks before. Kind of not my scene, but Mila convinced me otherwise."

"She fucking begged you, you can say it, I know what's like," Yuri mumbles. Otabek is such a gentleman about everything. Even when he was complimenting the way Yuri looked in leather while staring at him fixedly. 

Otabek smirks, "she did. And I should thank her. Yuri, you are the most beautiful being I have ever seen." The way he says it, so straight-faced and with no shame at all, makes an electric current travel down Yuri's spine. "I didn't even know you but I felt you were around somewhere and I needed to find you."

Yuri flushes, honest to god flushes. Otabek's so corny but so gentlemanly overwhelming. He says it like it's his heart speaking and Yuri doesn't know what to do. "Oh, shut up. You say that to all the blondes you hook up with."

Otabek frowns, smile falling off. "I really don't."

Oh, gods. Yuri had just gone there and _ruined_ it. But he can't back off now or it would be _awkward_. ""Oh, come on. Admit it, you have a type."

Otabek seems to consider his words very carefully but halfway into it he drops his gaze and looks like he's being caught. "Ok, maybe I have a thing for blondes."

Yuri rolls his eyes. 

Otabek frowns up at him, getting his silverware to go back to his food. "But wait, how did you-"

"Oh, I've read stuff," Yuri shrugs, scooping up more food. 

Otabek looks flabbergasted for a minute, but then his face breaks into an indecent smirk, staring intently at Yuri. "Oh, you did? About me?"

Yuri halts. Right, he hadn't been intending to let that piece of information slip. "Maybe I did," Yuri stabs at an onion, feeling suffocated by Otabek's gaze and the sheer warmth his own body releases in response. Relationship rumors were one of the most embarrassing things that could happen to someone in the media. They were mostly not even true, Yuri had been the target of some before. But reading Otabek's had been... revolting? Yuri didn't know, it just felt awful, made him want to get up and go kill some bitches. "By the way, did you really do all those models?" He flicks his gaze to Otabek sharply. "I would answer wisely if I were you."

Otabek frowns. He shouldn't look so hot while doing that with his mouth hanging slightly open and lips stained with red sauce. But god, he does, and it sets Yuri on fire. How many lips had Otabek kissed? Who were they? Where they lived exactly? Did they leave their door unlocked at any time of the day? Maybe the window?

"Models?" Otabek croaks. 

Oh, so he's going for innocence. "Yes, like, that Swedish model, did you fuck her?" Yuri asks, remembering that damned Kazakh gossip. She looked like a total whore.

Otabek's face, to Yuri's incredulity, actually clears into acknowledgment. "Oh, you mean Birgit. Yes, that happened."

Yuri cannot fucking believe the sheer audacity he has, shrugging it off like it's not a big deal. "I can't believe you!" he says, then keeps his voice down when some patrons look his way, "She was fucking made of plastic. Her boobs were completely fake."

Otabek looks away in thought. "No, from what I remember they weren't."

He doesn't seem fazed that he's reduced Yuri to a gaping mouthed fool. Until the silence stretches and Otabek becomes uncomfortable, scratching the buzzed part of his undercut and staring at the tablecloth, red and yellow. "Come on, Yuri, don't be mad about that," he says, almost pleading, "You've never slept with anyone just because you wanted it?"

Yuri regains his senses, biting on the end of his tongue for a minute while he cooks up the most vindictive experience of his sexual life to throw at Otabek. "Well, of course I have. With more than one at once," he preens, cocking his nose up and keeping his gaze averted from Otabek. He can still hear the hitch on his breathing from the other side of the table though. 

Yuri sips from his water and lets the silence build for a moment. Oh, but Otabek must be dying inside. Yuri smirks. 

"You mean," Otabek says, voice husky and low, "you've had threesomes?"

"Well, of course," Yuri throws his hair over his shoulder and finally looks at Otabek. He looks completely shaken, his mouth reduced to a thin line where he's clearly gritting his teeth. He gives Yuri a look with another kind of intensity, the one that shakes Yuri up to his core, the one that if it could speak, it would be whispering very R-rated stuff in his ear. 

"When?" Otabek asks, his eyes not straying from Yuri.

"Ah, I was young," Yuri begins, "Highschool. I did ballet. There was a guy from the school hockey team that kept eyeing me. He had a friend. One day we waited until practice was over. He had a car," Otabek hangs onto his every word, leaning in over the table, eyes transfixed on Yuri, "He turned the radio on, _very loud_ ," Yuri hisses, and Otabek's nostrils flare in response, "And then I rode them until they were too tired to go again."

Yuri gets a first-row seat to the show that is Otabek's pupils dilating, swallowing his iris into fat, dark circles. He gives a sharp intake of breath. "Did you like it?" Otabek asks lowly, like he's telling a secret.

"Oh, yes."

"Were they good to you?" Otabek swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Very much," Yuri emphasizes. "They were both brunettes. Just my type," he winks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Don't know if any of you noticed it but Yuri is a bit genderfluid. Still don't know how I should tag it because it's not obvious and not even that intense but don't be confused if he shows up wearing women's clothing).


	10. Chapter 10

" _Yuratchka_." 

Yuri looks up from his phone. Nikolai's disapproving face stares back at him. He looks different in a way Yuri can't point out, maybe the connection contributes, the image grainy and shaky, but every time Yuri skypes with his grandfather he has the feeling that there's something missing. Maybe it's because they haven't seen each other in close to five months. Yuri should consider visiting him in a while before he goes back to his crazy international schedule. 

"Yes, sorry," Yuri sets his phone on the table sheepishly. 

Nikolai eyes him suspiciously. "Who were you talking to?" 

Yuri's phone vibrates. He makes to grab it but his grandfather's scowl prevents him. Yuri licks his lips, "No one. Just Victor pestering me," it wasn't a lie, Victor was indeed bothering him all day long. 

"Just Victor?" Nikolai raises one eyebrow. "You know you can't lie to me, Yuratcha. I raised you, boy," he grins. Yuri grunts and looks away. It wasn't that he was deliberately keeping his beloved grandfather in the dark. Actually, it was, but he had a purpose. 

He and Otabek had been texting constantly since their last ' _date_ ' in the Thai place a couple days ago. Otabek had dropped him off after they'd finished. They'd made out for a little while, the street had been desert, but Otabek had refused to come up. Yuri wasn't a prude, there wasn't a rule against putting out in the second – maybe first? - date, but Otabek, though legitimately affected by the proposal, shook his head and thanked Yuri for the lovely evening. 

It was weird, this constant feeling of needing to check his phone after more messages. Otabek didn't have much time left in St Petersburg. Apparently his mother was trying to make up his mind to go back to Kazakhstan for his sister's wedding in two days, so Yuri couldn't be blamed if he felt like he had to leech all of Otabek's attention while he could. Still, it makes him mad when Otabek takes too long to answer any of his texts or send back more snapchats – usually just touristic spots he'd visited or a music sheet he was working on. 

"Does this have anything to do with that boy?" Nikolai asks. 

Yuri turns back to him after watching the new message bubble longingly. "Hn? What boy?" 

Nikolai smirks. "The one you were spotted with." 

"Oh," Yuri frowns, "How did you know that?" 

"It's in the papers," Nikolai shrugs. 

Yuri sighs. "Grandpa," he pulls his legs up, "I don't know, it's just-" Yuri worries his bottom lip. He couldn't explain it to himself, even less so to his grandfather. Yuri likes Otabek, he's nice and handsome and kind and a thousand shades marvellous but he doesn't know where they're going with this. He doesn't want to build up much hope either. He knows how these stuff worked, even more so if Otabek had taken an interest in him solely for his looks – though the way he acted said otherwise. They could fuck a couple times and if it got too boring afterwards they could kiss bye-bye and spot each other again in the future with new significant others hanging off their arms. Right now the thought of it alone already has Yuri's guts twisting. 

"It's okay," Nikolai says, after a minute that Yuri had only filled with silence. "Don't need to tell me." Yuri smiles faintly. He misses his grandfather a fucking lot. No one else in the world understood Yuri like he did. "But you have to be safe, right?" Nikolai asks cautiously. 

Yuri groans, hiding his face with both hands. "Yuratchka, now, I'm serious. Have you been taking your suppressants?" 

"Yes, grandpa, I-argh, I'm good, okay?" 

"Tell him to use a condom," NIkolai continues. "I know boys these days don't like to but-" 

"I'm hanging up now-" 

" -there's always birth control," Nikolai finishes. Yuri blinks at him, waiting for the sheer mortifiement to settle. "Don't let him treat you bad, Yuratchka. You won't, will you?" 

Yuri gulps. His conversations with his grandfather seldom take a turn for the emotional. "I won't. You know me." 

"Right," Nikolai promptly says. "I will let you go back to him then. Ah, and if you want," he pauses, "You could bring him along." 

"Ugh, I don't know," Yuri looks down at his nails, "It's not even serious, grandpa." 

"I know, I know," Nikolai mumbles, "Just saying." 

There's an awkward silence for a moment. "Shit," Yuri sighs, "If that was you asking me to go visit be sure to know that I will. Next week, okay?" 

Nikolai grins, satisfied. "Oh, very well then. Who knows, maybe I will even make pirozhki." 

 

\- 

 

Yuri clicks his tongue. He has been running on the treadmill for the last hour. He has a feeling he always slacks off when he's home, though he still practices his ballet at least once a day. The problem is he can't focus on his exercise now because Victor has taken the day off to test his patience, blowing off his cell phone all the damn time. Yuri is trying to listen to his playlist – containing more of Otabek's discography now though he would never let him know that – but it's become quite an impossible feat with every message that pinges and interrupts his vibe. 

Yuri growls, pausing and stepping down the treadmill to grab his phone. "What the fuck do you want, you piece of shit?" He answers begrudgingly. 

"Yurii, don't be like that," Victor's irritating voice talks back, "I've been trying to reach you all day long." 

"Yeah, and I've been trying to avoid you for as long. Can't you take a fucking hint?" 

Victor laughs, "Yuuri mentioned you met him in Italy. He says Lilia is very satisfied with you and now that you're back in Russia I've been thinking, why don't you come over for dinner?" 

Yuri makes a thoughtful sound. "No, thanks, I have food here already. Now would you stop calling me?" 

"Yuriii, please. You know, people actually kill to be invited to dinner with us." 

"That's great for them," Yuri bends to get his water bottle and squirt some into his mouth, "They can all kill each other for all I care." 

"I- Hold on," there's a rustle at the other side of the line. Yuri rolls his eyes. "Yuri?" It's the pig's voice, sounding different over the phone line, but still recognizable. His Japanese accent was funny. "Why don't you come? Me and Victor have been meaning to talk to you," he giggles. 

Yuri sighs, "Listen, pig, that's very nice of you and all," he lies, moving to his kitchen, where he opens the door to the fridge and takes a look inside. It's empty save for an open bottle of milk, an old yogurt, two tomatoes and one lettuce. Yuri winces, "But I have plans for dinner already." 

Yuuri mumbles something to Victor in the background before returning, "No, you don't. Victor said Otabek will be working tonight." 

Yuri gaps, "I didn't- How can you assume-" 

"Yuri," the pig says, suddenly very serious, ceasing Yuri's protests, "Come, please. We want to see you." 

 

\- 

 

"There he is! Goodnight, Yuri, oh, look at you, you look beautiful," Victor greets him loudly. Actually, his butler, a guy that resembles Yakov a scarily lot, had been the one to greet Yuri by the hall and lead him inside, where Victor is waiting in the living room. 

His and Yuuri's house looks like one of those belonging to the old monarchy, big and all about dark wood and large paintings of old people, an exaggeration of the classical theme. Yuri grunts in response, his lip quirking in disbelief. He was wearing sneakers and a cardigan over his ballet practice clothing. It was intentional, he knew how supercilious Victor was with these stuff. Dinner in Victor's house used to be a very secluded event. He invited actors and all sort of intellectuals to eat food that was served as though their stomachs were the size of a pea. Yuri had been to one before, that's why he tried to run as fast as he could when Victor extended the invitation again. 

"Victor," Yuri says dismissively, stepping into the living room. There's a woman in a smart black dress sat on one of the sofas, next to a bearded man. They're dressed as though this is a fucking gala and eye Yuri's leopard print sneakers in disdain. Victor introduces them as some actress Yuri couldn't care less and another director that was a friend of his. They nod Yuri's way. Yuri forces a tiny smile in response. 

"Yuri, we were almost getting started without you," Victor continues, motioning for him to sit. Yuri does so and pulls his cell phone out. He makes a sound in response to Victor's statement. Yes, he'd come late on purpose. "Yuuri is in the kitchen with the rest of our guests. He made sure to be the one cooking tonight and couldn't deny their help." 

Yuri glances up at him. "I'm not helping if that's what you're trying to say. I can't cook for shit." 

Victor laughs. The actress and the old guy give Yuri very unimpressed looks. The only enjoyment Yuri gets out of coming here is blowing Victor's party by coming on half-assed clothes and disrupting the polite conversations with his straightforward statements. "Oh, Yuri, you're so funny," Victor says, "I'll bring Yuuri, he told me to get him once- Oh, there he is. Darling, Yuri's arrived." 

Yuuri shows up from a hallway wearing an apron. His face lights up when he sees Yuri. "Yuri, you've made it! I was worried you wouldn't show up." 

Yuri gets up to greet him. Yuuri looks the same, only his face is more open, looking as though he's actually having a good time cooking for a bunch of stuck-up people. "Well, since Yuri is here already we should get started, right?" He turns to say to Victor, "I will only get this thing off first," he looks down at his apron with a shy smile. "Yuri, would you come with me?" 

Yuri shrugs, anything is better than making small talk with Victor and his friends. He follows the pig on his way to the kitchen. Yuri doesn't know how Yuuri's gotten used to this house, he'd have gotten lost if he was to go by himself, so many entrances and hallways until they're standing in Victor's spacious kitchen, shining like an earring. There's no one around, only a pile of dirty pans that Yuri eyes with certain disgust. 

"Oh, don't mind these, I'll put them in the washer later," Yuuri waves it away, untying the knot of his apron, "They were helping me out here but they have taken the food to the dining room already. I hope you'll like it, it's an old recipe of my family's," Yuuri smiles, "Would you sit next to me? I can never quite understand Victor's conversations with his friends," he blushes, "So I'd like you to keep me company. If that is okay?" 

Yuri rolls his eyes. "As though it pains me to avoid Victor's crowd of snob fuckers." 

Yuuri flushes. "Don't worry, it won't be too bothersome for you, I promise. Sorry for insisting earlier, I had a feeling you weren't really into this but," he folds the apron and stores it away in a drawer before turning to Yuri and wringing his hands together, "We'd like to tell you guys something." 

Yuri hums, knowing them it's probably something ridiculous. Victor had made quite a similar scandal when he'd decided to get a dog, Makkachin, that is now outside doing dog stuff. Makkachin seemed to have taken a liking to Yuri last time, jumping on him and staining his clothes with its wet, dirty paws, licking his face and hands as though Yuri didn't _hate_ dogs. Good thing they're keeping it in the backyard now. 

They finally make their way to the dining room, Yuuri going ahead to guide them. Victor is already sat at the head of the table, the bearded guy from before flanking him. The actress is sat beside him and other than that only three other people are there as guests, a Japanese woman whose eyes widen when she spots Yuri, an Italian guy and- Otabek, calmly sat next to the bottom of the table, nodding to something the Italian is telling him. 

Yuri almost trips on his own feet, but manages to hold himself back and appear unaffected. Yuuri takes his seat at the bottom, across Victor, and motions for Yuri to take the sit next to him, in front of Otabek. He smiles and winks when Yuri sits. Yuri wants to absolutely kill him. Or Otabek, he doesn't know whom first. Otabek had told him he would be working and Victor had corroborated. Oh, people. 

The Italian guy is still talking to Otabek, whose eyes are now glued on Yuri, smiling snidely before switching his attention to Victor, who has now cleared his throat. 

"Thank you all so much for being here," he begins, "It means a lot for me and Yuuri," Yuuri blushes and the guests, excluding Yuri, smile. "We hope you'll like the food. If you don't you can complain directly with Yuuri," laughter, "Or Otabek, who was dragged out of the studio by me and insisted on helping my fiancé." More laughter that Yuri doesn't partake on, shooting Otabek a sideways look. 

_"Dragged?"_ Yuri mouths to Otabek. 

Otabek rolls his eyes and winks at him. Yuri tries not to feel happy, but it's difficult when Otabek is nearby. 

"Well, with that said, let's enjoy Yuuri's katsudon, which I'm sure you'll like. It's his specialty and it's become my favorite dish. _Itadakimasu_ ," Victor finishes and they all scramble to get the food. It's pork meat with eggs, it looks like. Yuri isn't a fan of pork meat so he doesn't have good expectations, but the food is actually pretty good. He pulls his hair up with his hairpin and digs in. Otabek, calmly cutting on his meat with the knife, smiles and nudges Yuri's foot under the table. 

Yuri kicks him in response. They enjoy the food while sending each other surreptitious looks. The rest of the table seems to be engrossed in conversation, Victor with his friends and Yuuri with the Italian and the Japanese woman, whose names Yuri has overhead to be Michele and Minako. 

"I didn't know you would be coming," Yuri finally manages to say. Michele is sending him nasty looks from beside Otabek so Yuri isn't worried that he cares about what he has to say but Minako has clearly recognized Yuri and still seems to be in a state of shock that she got to sit beside him, which is always dangerous. There's already a lot of talk on them in the media and Yuri doesn't need 'an intimate friend' to tattle on them to add up. But Minako is now speaking to Yuuri in Japanese, which bans the rest of the table from the conversation, so Yuri feels safe. 

"I wasn't supposed to, but Victor went back to the studio to pick me up. Yuuri mentioned you had confirmed, so," he shrugs one shoulder. 

"So you decided to come?" Yuri grins. 

"Well, he also promised food." 

Yuri rolls his eyes teasingly. "Right, you musicians, always famished." 

Otabek smiles. "I thought you wouldn't come," he says, gaze falling to what is visible of Yuri's body. "Were you practicing?" 

Yuri quirks up his lips, "Well, I never come first," he says, and Otabek chokes on his bite, sipping from his water and nodding Yuuri's way when he asks if he's fine. Otabek's cheeks have turned a nice shade of pink. Yuri doesn't hide his smile. "But yes, I was doing ballet." 

Otabek nods. 

"Oh, ballet?" Minako exclaims. Yuri tenses. Shit. He had an inkling she had been paying attention to their conversation but he hadn't been expecting her to express it. "That's great, I do ballet too. Teach, now, mostly. Yuuri was my apprentice." 

Yuuri is quick to nod. "Ah, sorry. Yuri, this is Minako, she's taught me ballet. Minako-sensei, this is Yuri Plisetsky, as I'm sure you know," Minako nods vigorously, "She's a fan," the pig complements to Yuri in a lower voice. 

"I gathered as much," Yuri hisses and takes a sip of his water. 

"How have you been practicing?" Minako continues. "Ballet is very good to keep up body shape. I read an interview of yours once. You started when you were young, right? How old?" 

"Six," Yuri mumbles. He chances a look at Otabek, who is trying very valiantly to contain his laugh, looking down at his plate silently. 

Minako traps Yuri in a conversation about ballet. He's forced to say for how long he practices every day, what sort of exercises he does and that no, he'd never thought about taking it professionally. He eyes Otabek every once in a while but is unable to try and talk to him. Otabek glances at him all the time too, Michele stubbornly trying to keep his attention for more than a second with his talk about popular music. 

Suddenly, Victor is calling everyone to attention. "Now, we'd like to finally state why we requested your presence here," everyone quiets down. Victor exchanges a look with Yuuri, who has pulled his arms from the table certainly to wring his hands on his lap, face red as a tomato. "As you are the only people aware of mine and Yuuri's engagement we've decided to gather you here to inform that we've finally set up a date for the ceremony." Delighted gasps, "We'll have one in Hasetsu with Yuuri's family," Victor points out, "And one in a secluded little place in Tuscany. You're all invited, of course." 

More cheers and then applause. Victor beams, staring at Yuuri fondly. Yuuri retributes the smile shyly, eyes sparking. "And," Victor raises one finger, "We'd also like to tell you," he exchanges a look with Yuuri, who looks down at his lap and hides his face with both hands in embarrassment, "That Yuuri has gone off his suppressants." 

Gasps. Minako says something in Japanese that has Yuuri blushing terribly. Yuri gaps at him. Victor leads them into a toast and after the cheers and well-wishes die down Yuri turns to Katsudon. "Are you getting pregnant?" 

Yuuri bites his bottom lip before nodding, adjusting his glasses on top of his nose. "We hope so." 

Yuri just stares at him. "You're _insane_." 

Yuuri laughs nervously. 

"Congratulations," Otabek speaks up, turning to Yuuri. 

"Thanks, Otabek," Yuuri smiles candidly at him. The murmur of conversations resurface save for their side of the table, Minako now talking to Michelle. "I- I would also like- Yuri," the pig calls lowly. Yuri, still finishing his katsudon, hums. "I wanted to ask you, you're an omega too, right? Have you ever been off your suppressants?" 

Yuri nods half-heartedly. Yuuri gasps, "Oh, god, how is it? Is it too intense? I started taking mine as soon as I found out my second gender. I've never..." He trails off. 

"Well, it's a heat, of course it's intense," Yuri says, which maybe doesn't help, not if the way Katsudon shudders is any indication. Yuri rolls his eyes, "No need to shit your pants though. It's nothing much, you'll just want to fuck all the time." 

Otabek looks _terribly_ uncomfortable that he's being made to listen in, staring fixedly at his plate and eating with difficulty. Now it's Yuri's turn to control his laugh. 

"But does it," Yuuri looks around before lowering his voice, leaning closer to Yuri, "Does it hurt? I mean, have you ever-" 

"Yes." 

Yuuri whimpers. 

"I mean, yes, I've spent it with alphas before, but no, the knot doesn't hurt," Yuri elaborates. Otabek's nostrils actually flare across him, not looking up from the table though Yuri can feel the way he adjusts his legs apart under the table. Oh, was someone getting turned on here? Yuri licks his lips. "It feels actually really good. If you're prepared, that is." 

Yuuri is quick to nod. "How will I know if I'm prepared?" 

"You can use toys," Yuri says, keeping his gaze on Otabek, who is now huffing with every breath, "I prefer using my fingers. Three, maybe four. You won't even need to slick them, you'll be wet enough to take them all. Really, really wet-" 

"Excuse me," Otabek suddenly gets up from his seat, "Bathroom." 

Yuri watches him go mischievously. Katsudon seems to have been startled out of their conversation, only now realizing Otabek had been within hearing distance and wasn't talking to no one. He flushes and turns to Yuri, "Yuri, oh my god, was he listening?!" 

Yuri laughs, "Don't worry, he'll survive it." 

Yuuri hides his gaping mouth with a hand, staring over his shoulder at the door Otabek had exited through. "And you were-" his face slackens, "Yuri, you were egging him on," he accuses, looking at Yuri as though he'd just announced to be a criminal. 

Yuri rolls his eyes, "It's called teasing. If you've never done it before it'll take more than one heat for you to fall pregnant." 

Katsudon shakes his head. "Poor Otabek," he laments. He finishes his glass of water and turns to Yuri again, "Please, don't do this here." 

Yuri smirks, "Yeah, we'll save it for somewhere else." 

"So," Yuuri sets his glass down, "have you... already?" 

"You can say the word sex, it's not forbidden." 

Yuuri sighs, shaking his head as though to get rid of a thought. "So, have you done it?" 

"Not yet." 

Yuuri stares at him, flabbergasted. "Not _yet_?" 

"Soon, I think," Yuri shrugs. Katsudon must think him a slut, his mouth hanging open. Yuri smacks his arm, "Mind your own fucking business, okay?" 

Otabek returns from the bathroom after a while, gingerly taking his seat back. Dessert arrives, a kind of creamy, cherry cake that Yuuri credits to Otabek. He receives praises and compliments from everyone, save for Yuri, who has stuffed his mouth full and is trying to contain himself from getting another slice. Otabek watches him with a smile. "I'm glad you liked it," he says. 

Yuri blushes. 

"Oh, it's very good," Minako cuts in. She then proceeds to ask Otabek for the recipe. 

They all eat more of Otabek's dessert until all that is left is one quarter of it, which Yuuri offers to store in the fridge. Once he returns and the dishes are cleared, Victor speaks up. "Guys, if you are not in a hurry I'd like to invite you to the music room for a minute before tea is served. As you might know, Otabek here has been composing for me," Otabek smiles sheepishly when they turn to him. It's a bit endearing the way he doesn't like to be the center of attentions. "He's showed me his first track for the movie a few days ago and I'm still not over it. He's said yes when I asked him to play it again for us tonight," Otabek scratches the back of his head. "So, Otabek, would you?" 

Otabek nods, and Yuri follows the rest of the guests up to the room Victor'd mentioned. It's the room at the far end of the house, spacious with a grand, black piano in it. The night has fallen outside, so the big windows with its long curtains are of no use for the lighting, leaving only the bubbled yellow lights to the task. There are small, patterned sofas in front of a fireplace that they all sit around while Otabek takes his seat on the stool in front of the piano. 

Yuri has never seen him playing before. He looks different when he faces the keyboard. His shoulders look more relaxed under the light sweater he wears, and when his fingers splay over the ivory keys for the first notes Yuri feels consumed by something. It's never the same, listening to recorded music and live music, just as taking a photo isn't the same as seeing with your own eyes. The notes ring pleasantly and everyone watches in amazed silence as Otabek wrings these sounds together. The music is soft but has a grave, fast-paced layer in the background, like a struggle between delicacy and mad fury. It might be one of the most beautiful things Yuri has heard. 

He doesn't know how Otabek is able to play that without breaking his fingers but he doesn't waver, placidly staring down at his hands as he goes on and on. Yuri feels like he should cry. He doesn't even know why, but it's just so beautiful. How can a person like that be normal? Did he come up with that all on his own? 

Otabek finishes with these spaced, high notes that leave everyone scrambling to find reason again. Victor is actually shedding tears, the emotional bastard. He goes to hug Otabek. "I knew I was right for making Yuri go get you," he laughs. 

Everyone gets up from their seat to praise Otabek. The snobby actress's eyes are absolutely shining when she looks at him. Yuri glares at the back of her neck. The old director prods Otabek with questions of classical music that he answers to without batting an eyelash. 

Katsudon comes to sit beside Yuri, who still hasn't managed to get up from his seat, suddenly swarmed with emotions with the sight of Otabek sitting there, in his homey sweater in front of a piano, swarmed by admirers. "He's good, hn?" Yuuri asks, knocking shoulders with him. 

Yuri swallows and nods, eyes searching for Otabek's figure when someone steps in his line of view, forming a semi-circle around him. "Victor loved it, hasn't shut up about it since. It's special for him too, you know, for someone to get exactly what he was looking for in his movies and turn it into a music like this," Yuuri continues, "Victor says he might have a shot at the Oscar for this alone." 

Yuri makes a sound in acknowledgement. Yuuri smiles at him, "You can keep the rest of the dessert, okay? I know you liked it." 

Yuri licks his lips, finally taking his eyes away from the people gathered around the piano. "I can't. I have a new shoot next week, it'll get me fat." 

Katsudon grins knowingly at him, "Okay, I'll have it then. Maybe Makkaching will like it." 

"Go fuck yourself, Katsuki. You better give me that shit later." 

Yuuri blushes and laughs for a short while, but Victor calls him and he goes to him. Yuri is left by himself at the sofa, watching as Victor ducks to whisper something in Yuuri's ear. He nods eagerly. 

"Guys, I think tea is ready," Yuuri says, moving to the door. "Anya, won't you come?" He calls after everyone save the actress and Victor follow him. 

Anya shakes her head and mumbles some stupid excuse. Yuuri accepts it because he's a kind soul and also an idiot. 

Yuri scratches the edge of his nose when he notices what they're doing, untwisting his hair and playing with some of the strands. He gets up from his seat and sees the way Otabek's back tenses. Yuri smiles softly, though he knows Otabek can't see him, and goes to the end of the room to lean against the wall longingly and pretend he is watching something out the window. 

Victor clears his throat thinly, "Anya, I need to show you something-" he says, steering her away by the waist. 

"Oh, but-" 

"It's important. Remember that scene I told you about? Well, I'll need you to-" the sound of Victor's voice trails off and down the hallways until it's become undiscernible. Otabek remains where he is, staring at the keyboard, pressing keys every once in a while. Yuri makes his way towards him slowly. He sees the way the corner of Otabek's lips lift up when he comes to stand next to him. 

"So," Yuri begins, supporting one knee on the stool next to Otabek and leaning his hipbone against his side. 

"Did you like it?" Otabek asks, turning away from the keyboard to look up at Yuri. His eyes are so beautiful, how come Yuri had never noticed them before? Round and almond, a shade darker than hazel and lighter than brown. 

"Well," Yuri stalls. He doesn't find words to describe how he felt about Otabek's music. He licks his lips, "I don't know. I thought I would cry." 

He doesn't why he's admitted to that, but Otabek deserves to know what Yuri felt in its entirety. He wrote it, he made Yuri feel like that. "Sorry," Otabek murmurs. 

Yuri huffs lowly, "It's not your fault. I suppose you just can't help it." 

"What?" 

"Doing what you're good at, I guess," Yuri shrugs. 

Otabek looks down at the keyboard pensively before switching his eyes back to Yuri. "I'm not nearly as good as I wanted to be." 

Yuri snorts, "Okay, Beethoven." 

Otabek laughs shyly, "No, I mean-" 

"Oh, no need to explain yourself-" 

"Yura," Otabek calls, and it's so soft and genuine that Yuri actually pauses. No one's called him Yura before, save for maybe his grandfather though Yuratchka was more common. It has Yuri's heart warming. 

"What?" He mumbles. 

"I made it for you." 

Yuri frowns, "No, you didn't." 

Otabek nods, apparently finding Yuri's disbelief very funny because he smiles. "I did." 

Yuri takes a moment to absorb that. It's not possible that a melody like that was meant to be given, or was even inspired by him. It said a lot of Otabek's talent, at least. "When?" 

"A little after I met you," Otabek continues, "Before I came to St Petersburg." 

"Oh, gods," Yuri sighs. He feels his eyes brimming but he holds it back. "I- You're so stupid. It's for Victor's movie." 

Otabek shrugs. "Victor's borrowed it. But it is yours, in essence, it's all yours, Yura." 

"Okay," Yuri mumurs. 

"I have others," Otabek admits, chancing a look down the keyboard. "But- I don't know, they're not ready. There's this part that I can't get right. You know, it's like writing a story without knowing the end." 

Yuri frowns, "Ahm, actually, I don't think I know what you're talking about." 

Otabek laughs, "Sorry, it's confusing." He watches the way Yuri's long, pale fingers hover over the keys, "Do you play it?" He asks, taking Yuri's fingers in his. Yuri tries to pull them back. He's always had a strange fascination for pianos but it feels like such a grand instrument, so pure, not meant to be tainted by his fingers. 

"No." 

"I could teach you." 

Yuri chuckles, "I find that hard to believe." 

"I don't," Otabek pulls his fingers, "You can do anything you set your mind to, Yura. I thought you knew that by now." He covers one of Yuri's fingers with one of his own and presses it against one key. It resounds loudly inside the room. 

"I sometimes forget it," Yuri says in a low voice. He doesn't even know what he's talking about anymore. Otabek has somehow liquified his brain. 

"I'll show you," Otabek says, and finally tilts Yuri's chin down to kiss him. It's chaste, doesn't even involve any tongue. Yuri's forgotten how good it feels to kiss someone like that, even more so with Otabek's fingers covering his, this quiet silence around them. He wraps one arm around Otabek's shoulders, leaning down to kiss him. Otabek has his whole head angling up to Yuri's lips, chasing them after they part, eyes shut and mouth hanging open for Yuri's kisses like a man thirsty. 

Otabek settles with one arm around Yuri's waist to pull him closer and they kiss for a while longer. Yuri feels so vulnerable but also so strong. He loves the heat of Otabek's body on his own even though they're not touching completely, loves the feel of his lips against his own and this quiet, simple environment they've found for each other. 

"I'm heading to Almaty," Otabek says in between one of their kisses, "Tomorrow." 

Yuri pulls away. "What?" He frowns, "I thought you said two weeks." 

Otabek licks his lips, swollen and red. He watches Yuri's mouth longingly. "My mother told me to go earlier. She's-" he closes his eyes, shakes his head and inches his mouth back over Yuri's, "Please, don't let me forget this moment." 

Yuri doesn't know what he means, isn't really thinking correctly, still a bit shaken to think that he wouldn't be this close to Otabek again. "When will you be back?" He manages to ask. 

"Next week," Otabek says, lifting a broad hand to cup Yuri's cheek. "Or earlier. I'll try to." 

Yuri smirks bitterly against his lips. "I have shoot next week," he nips the corner of Otabek's lower lip, "In Istanbul." 

"Oh, fuck," Otabek pulls him down. Yuri drops half on the stool and half on Otabek's thigh, but their positions are inversed and Otabek reaches up around his waist to pull him closer to his side. "I'll try to come earlier. I promise. As soon as I can." Yuri hums, finally ceding passage for Otabek's tongue inside his mouth. 

"I'll text you," Otabek pulls back to say, "Every day." 

Yuri nods, he doesn't know what else to do. In all fairness, he feels a bit lost now as to what the future would be like. He'd made plans for the rest of the week they'd spend together. Not actual _plans_ , but like... oh gods, he'd had hopes. 

"When I come back," Otabek says, and his face pulls unpleasantly, "I'm lined up for a festival next month. England. Will you come with me? I have some spare tickets." 

"I'll have to check with Yakov, but I'll try." Yuri has been to festivals before, but he's never gone with one of the lined up DJs. As they say, first time for everything. He was gonna _eat_ whatever contract he'd signed saying he was available for that time. 

Otabek smiles, cupping Yuri's face with both hands and dragging him closer to kiss. They only break apart when someone clears their throat. 

It's Victor, a pleasant smile plastered to his face while Yuuri, standing behind him, has his hands on his own waist and a drawn-out, embarrassed smile, looking down at his own feet. "So," Victor drawls, "We only wanted to check if the lovebirds were still alive." 

Otabek blushes and lets his hands fall on Yuri's waist. "Sorry. We should get going already." 

_We?_ , Yuri thinks, but all right, yes, we. He stands up next to Otabek. Victor gives them a sad smile before informing Otabek, "Anya is still in the living room, I think she's waiting for you." 

Yuri groans without meaning to. Victor gives him an amused smile. "But don't worry, there's always the back door. But you should be careful with Makkachin though." Yuri groans again. 

"Yuri," Katsudon calls, "I'll get your... okay?" 

Yuri frowns, "What? Oh, oh, okay." 

Yuuri nods and flees the room. Both Victor and Otabek turn to Yuri questioningly. "What?", Yuri raises an eyebrow. 

 

\- 

 

Yuri has to fight his cake with Makkachin on the way out. The dog jumps on him as soon as they leave the house, sniffing after it. "Get off me, you little creature," Yuri disentangles himself from Makkachin and heads to the street. Yuuri'd called a cab for him. As much as he wanted to go back with Otabek it would be hard to carry his takeout while wrapping both arms around Otabek's waist. It's disturbing though, because Yuri knows they won't be seeing each other as soon as he'd hoped before. 

They both lean against the wall to Victor and Yuuri's house. "You can go, you know," Yuri mumbles, although Otabek has him wrapped in his arms and the night is more than a little bit colder for Yuri's choice of clothes. 

"I'll wait with you," Otabek says, and then glances at Yuri's hands. "That's my cake, isn't it?" 

Yuri yelps, "Of course it's not, you bastard," he hurries to say, hitting Otabek in the chest and stepping away from him. "Katsudon's given me a gift," he lies. 

"Uhun," Otabek makes, unimpressed. "Katsudon?" He frowns. 

"Yes, Yuuri," Yuri shrugs. Otabek chuckles. "I don't know, I just thought it funny. He's a pig and his favorite dish is made out of pig. Besides, he's stolen my name. He doesn't deserve being called by it." 

"Fair," Otabek says. "You know, I can cook one of these for you one of these days. You won't have to lie about getting it from our hosts." 

"I've told you already, it's a gift, not the cake," Yuri insists. Otabek doesn't say anything else anymore, but he stares down at his shoes while biting on his lip not to laugh. "You're so irritating, gods," Yuri huffs, "I'll have to keep that in mind when you write me another music. You won't brag so much then." Otabek shakes his head. The way he bites his lower lip reminds Yuri of something. "Hey," he makes, and steps into Otabek's space. 

Otabek hums, leaning his head back against the wall and watching him under his eyelashes. Yuri watches him lewdly, poking on his chest. "Did you jerk off earlier in the bathroom?" 

Otabek stares at him, face completely blank. He seems to be searching his mind after what Yuri might mean. And then he groans, stepping away from Yuri. "I think I'm going back now, actually. You can wait by yourself." 

Yuri laughs, "Beka," he calls after him. "Beka, come on." 

Otabek turns swiftly on his heels, and Yuri doesn't know what he's on about when he pulls him closer suddenly, kissing him with all this fervor. "You called me Beka," he says after they part. Yuri pants against his lips, and then smirks. 

"You called me Yura." 

Otabek plants a kiss on his lips. "Fair."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know any good classical music (possibly not one that fits the description), but if you do please let me know. I need suggestions for Yuri's music.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the musics! I listened to them all and stil haven't reached a conclusion. So, provisionally, it'll be a kind of mix between [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QRjllL-MP0U) and [this one, which is one of my favourites ever](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wgPh3mSYf0M). If you have more suggestions please let me know!

Otabek's presence on social media is terribly scarce. He owns an Instagram, Snapchat and a Facebook – according to him, under his agent's insistence – and that's about it. The only thing he ever posts are his new videoclips and news on his next shows, every once in a while thanking the crowd for their presence and enthusiasm. His Instagram has a few more personal pictures, but it's not usual for him to update, he mostly posts views outside an airplane, selfies with other famous DJs backstage at festivals (these containing millions of likes) and selfies with his little sister, Aisha. She owns an Instagram herself, containing lots of information about her brother and his music. She's a little fan, it looks like, and has as many followers as Otabek, who seem to go after her as the real source to the true stuff of Otabek's life. She tells them where he is, when they'd last Skyped, if he has slept or if he was making new music. For a seven year old she's very articulate. Yuri almost follows her, but it feels very personal somehow. He doesn't know if Otabek has said anything to his family regarding him. Not that he could have much of a say in the matter as people were already talking and the pictures of them leaving the coffee shop together had already travelled the whole world and back. 

Regardless, Otabek still keeps Yuri updated. He sends him at least three Snapchats a day, which Yuri responds to sending back three times that number. They're usually just selfies, Yuri pouting up at the camera, innocently sat on his sofa with his tiger socks on, Yuri on the park, Yuri's lunch. Otabek always sends back compliments and even a heart emoji once. He seemed to be taking the time to actually keep in touch with him, which was very nice. He also had Yuri as a means of escape from his mother, he says. Apparently, she's been 'pestering' him, though Yuri doesn't know to what extent as he doesn't give away more information, but it may involve her finding lots of stuff to occupy him with for the wedding in order to keep him away from his phone. 

In fact, a recent post of Aisha's on her Instagram corroborated that fact. _**@aisha-altin** : beka is on his phone all the time but he is not telling who he is talking to_, it'd said, together with a selfie of her, showing off her tongue and Otabek's silhouette, far away in the background with his head bent over his phone casually. Yuri didn't even need to read the comments to know they were all some way or another connecting it to him. He'd received several notifications one of those days. 

The thing is: Otabek won't be making it back to St Petersburg before Yuri has to leave for Istanbul, which is the reason why he's sat next to his gate using the little wifi the airport provides for one hour. His phone vibrates on his hand. It's Otabek. 

_I can't cook this one for you_  
_Otabek has sent an [Image]!_

It's a wedding cake, most probably his sister's, with layers upon layers topped with meticulously done ornaments. It has Yuri's mouth watering. 

_save me a slice at least, won't you?_

_We'll see._  
_Are you boarding now?_

_yes, in a while_

_Safe flight :x_

_thnx_  
_btw, when did you last hear from mila?_ , Yuri asks, but only gets to see the answer when he arrives at Istanbul. 

_Can't remember. A long time._  
_She's been keeping distant._

 

\- 

 

Yuri's shoot is for a big perfume add. It's supposed to be advertised to omegas, a calm but strong scent that is still overtly sweet to Yuri's taste. It has him sneezing for one whole hour while he's being dolled up. They offer him coffee, which Yuri accepts for lack of anything better to do. He stares at his phone screen for a while, going through his conversations while his hair is blow dried. 

Otabek still hasn't seen his last message saying he'd arrived fine, which means he's probably still at the wedding. Yuri doesn't know much about how Kazakh weddings went but they seemed to be very time-consuming. Well, Otabek was the godfather so Yuri couldn't really blame him. He'd have to make a speech and everything, which didn't seem to come easily to him. Imagining him in a suit, stepping up to take the microphone to speak in front of his whole family and friends had Yuri snickering, hiding the smile with his knuckles when the hairdresser gives him a funny look. He can already picture Otabek's nervous face. 

It was a special occasion for him at least. Otabek's said before that his sister's fiancé is a nice guy though he hadn't had a good impression of him in the beginning. He was happy with the wedding though and his family seemed to be ecstatic. His mother was the old-fashioned type, that wanted everything to go perfectly for her first daughter's wedding. 

Yuri scrolls down his phone and spots his conversation with Mila. He taps it and begins typing. _what's up? /still in moscow?_

He can see Mila's online and bites the inside of his cheek when she takes too long to answer. 

_yuri_ , she finally types back.  
_yes , still in moscow_

Yuri raises his eyebrows, waiting impatiently for further elaboration. It doesn't come. He huffs, tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair. 

_nice. I'll head there next week to visit grandpa_  
_you staying at your mother's? I can stop by_

_yes , yuri_  
_no , i'll go back tomorrow_

_st petersb?_

_don't know . Maybe_

Yuri's nostrils flare. What the hell is wrong with her? 

_is everything ok?_

_yes_

_why didn't you talk to me?_  
_I was worried_

_you seemd pretty busy with beka_

Yuri begins typing, but Mila sends quick-fire texts over his. 

_look , yuri_  
_i dun wanna talk abt it_  
_i need more time , ok ?_

_ok_ , Yuri sighs.  
_let me know when you're ready_  
_there are stuff I want to talk to you abt_

Mila sees his message and doesn't say anything else. Yuri is frustrated. He can't shake away the thought that he had done something wrong but when he did Mila was actually the first to point it out. It was something born out of her head then. A few years back she'd dated a football player for a while before he ditched her for another model. Mila had gone into one of these phases then too, but she'd cried it out on Yuri's shoulder before taking a week off and coming back with news on her new boyfriend. It didn't last as much as this whatever it was. 

His hair is almost finished, the hairdresser only putting on the last touches, spraying and running his fingers over it. It falls perfectly down Yuri's back, wavy down the tips and glowing under the lights. Yuri is about to store his phone away when it vibrates with a new message. 

_I'm glad._ It's Otabek, meaning Yuri's last message when touching down.  
_Still at the wedding. Sorry but I don't think there's going to be any cake left._

Yuri smiles. _it's ok_  
_done your speech alrdy?_

_Yes._

_how did it go?_

_Terrible._  
_I may have stammered._

_Yuri chuckles._

_Where are you at?_ , Otabek continues. 

_at the shoot. Will get started in a few minutes._

_Oh, good luck._  
_I'll be playing later on tonight. If you were here I could watch you dancing,_ Otabek sends with a winking emoji. 

Yuri smirks. _if I was there I could do lots of other things_

_Not sure,_ Otabek types. The bubble appears and disappears as he seems to be formulating or thinking twice about what he's going to say next, which ends up being: _I don't think I would let you out of bed if you were._

Yuri laughs, delighted. Leave it to Otabek to surprise him so pleasantly. 

Yuri can't say he hadn't considered sexting with him before. They were countries away from each other when things between them had only just gotten started. But then again he didn't want to build this virtual intimacy before the physical one. It would feel like cheating somehow. 

_oh is this how it's going to be now?_ Yuri answers. 

_Maybe, yes._

Yuri can almost _see_ Otabek's pink cheeks and unsure look. He must be wondering if he's gone too far now. 

_ok, sir_  
_what are you wearing?_ , Yuri asks playfully. 

He hadn't been expecting Otabek to go along with it. _A suit. Black, white waistcoat,_ Otabek goes on. _Wouldn't you prefer a picture?_

_are you drunk?_

_Not really._  
_Just happy my mother has let me out of her sight for two minutes._  
_So, what are you wearing?_ , Otabek asks, and immediately after sends a picture. 

Yuri opens it. It's a selfie. Otabek _is_ in a black suit, the longer strands of his hair standing in every direction and a bit toppling over his forehead. He's a wearing a small, teasing smile, sat in a chair, the white tablecloth visible over his knees. In the background, Yuri can see several silhouettes, all draped in different coloured attires. The place where the wedding is being held on seems to be simple. 

"Yuri," the director calls from behind him. Yuri looks over his shoulder. What a terrible timing. Yuri nods and says he'll only be a minute. 

_Your turn._ Otabek sends. 

_sorry_  
_the shoot will start_  
_but...._

Yuri looks around him. Everyone is setting up the place, the presidential suite to a five-star hotel. The room is all draped in golden tones, which are set to match the perfume's colouring. Yuri is wearing a robe but underneath it he's only in his underwear and in a pair of fishnets that stop mid-thigh. No one's paying him any mind yet, so Yuri directs his camera towards his legs and sends the picture to Otabek. It's nothing much, just his legs crossed, his thighs lovingly kept inside the fishnets. He doesn't wait for Otabek's answer, but gets up from his seat and heads to the cameras. 

"Yuri?" The director calls. 

"Yes, ready," Yuri says, and unties his robe. 

\- 

The photos look good. The director analyses it with Yuri after the shoot. Yuri's changed back into his clothes now and aches to check his phone for Otabek's reaction but he has to make sure they have what they wanted from him. They photoshop the perfume's flask to stand in front of his crotch and between his thighs. Yuri's done sensual adds like this before and the results are pretty nice. 

He's lying on his side on the sofa, hair cascading around him and the tips barely hiding his nipples. He'd had to take his underwear off for that one but they'd provided him a sheet to keep his modesty. With the photoshop it seems he's naked save for the perfume flask between his legs, the jut of his bare hipbone and thighs visible, his long legs enveloped in the fishnets. The director hums appreciatively. "I think this one will make it," he nods, "okay?" 

Yuri nods. "Can you send it to me?" 

He raises one eyebrow. The rest of the staff is disassembling the set around them. The director finally shrugs after realizing he won't win a staring contest with Yuri. He sends the final draft to Yuri but says they're still going to have to edit the filter and the lights and something else later before it's released. Yuri hums in understanding, immediately sending the photo to Otabek. He slides his thumb down the screen to check his answer from earlier. 

_Yuri,_ he'd said.  
_That's unfair._  
_Very unfair._

_like it?_ , Yuri asks now. Otabek doesn't answer him right away. 

Yuri pockets his phone and walks back to his hotel. He gets lost on the way there and spots a cubicle of a coffee shop nestled next to a market. A bell chimes when he opens the door. 

There's a couple sat next to the counter and two girls, one behind the cashier and another, a waitress that comes to get his order. Yuri doesn't really know what to ask, he'd had coffee while waiting for the shoot so he goes with a fancy option they have, full of sugar and a bunch of other stuff that shouldn't be mixed with coffee. 

Yuri's phone vibrates on the table. 

_Oh, Yura..._  
_Oh, damn, Yura_

Yuri smiles down at Otabek's texts. 

_I'm buying all of those perfumes_ , Otabek says. 

_well, thank you_

_Where you at?_ Otabek suddenly types. 

Yuri hides his grin. The waitress comes to ask if he'd like anything else. Yuri shakes his head and pays the bill. 

_Bedroom?_ Otabek types one second after wistfully. 

Yuri grins down at his phone. He's walking back to the hotel following the waitress' directions. 

_sorry, champ_  
_not there yet_

_Oh holy mother..._  
_When will you be back to Saint Petersburg?_

_flight's tomorrow night_

_Shit_

_how is the wedding?_

_Don't know,_  
_I'm in the bathroom_

Yuri snickers. He walks through his hotel's double doors and heads to his room. _why?_

_Because I may have a problem_

_a Big problem?_ Yuri asks, leaning against the wall to the elevator. _Beka?_ , he types again after he's received no answer from Otabek, already showered and lying on his bed. 

_Yes, sorry_

_busy?_

_Not anymore_

_oh, I'd ahve liked to see that_

Otabek takes so long to answer that by the time he does Yuri'd already given up and went to bed. 

_Maybe next time ;)_


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come up with the most ridiculous name for a cat.

Despite his initial plans, Yuri flies straight from Istanbul to Moscow. It wouldn't do to go back to St Petersburg to do absolutely nothing until the day after came when he'd go visit his grandfather. Otabek still wasn't back from Almaty: his mother had not only hastened his departure from Russia but also prolonged his time in Kazakhstan. Yuri has taken to teasing him as to being a little mama's boy in hopes it wouldn't make his disappointment show. They'd barely spent much time together but Yuri now craved his presence like it was a thirst he couldn't quench, which was pathetic. Why couldn't his sister marry another day or another month even? Her need of his presence couldn't be bigger than Yuri's. 

Moscow is fucking freezing when Yuri's plane touches down. The pilot informs them it's snowing – which, right, thanks, but anyone can see that -, the temperature a few degrees below zero. Yuri is used to the cold, but he wasn't exactly wearing clothes to sustain it. Good thing he'd brought some in his baggage, which he puts on as soon as he locates it. 

Nikolai is waiting for him at the disembark area, hands in his pockets and staring curiously at the boarding schedules. He looks so _homely_ , Yuri can't describe it, the sight of his grandfather after a long time apart always makes his knees buckle, like finally coming back to a destination that he knows is _safe_. 

"Grandpa!" Yuri exclaims, and runs to him. Nikolai starts, eyes falling on Yuri. He gives that simple, kind smile of his before letting himself be embraced by Yuri. 

"Yuratchka," he says, settling a gloved hand on Yuri's back. "How are you doing?" 

Yuri hums, momentarily hiding his face on the fur of his grandfather's coat. "Good," Yuri mumbles, finally stepping back. "And you?" 

Nikolai lifts both his eyebrows. "As usual." 

 

\- 

 

The heater to Nikolai's car has broken down, which means they have to make the way back to the suburbs with the windows closed while Yuri reaches out every once in a while to wipe at the windshield. "How did you manage to drive here by yourself?" He asks, clicking his tongue and settling back against his seat. He supports his feet on the glove compartment, gaining a dark glance from his grandfather, who surprisingly doesn't say anything reproachful. 

Nikolai shrugs, "I'll talk to Boris. He'll take a look at it once we get there," he says, meaning the mechanic by their street who is apparently still alive and working. "Everyone is excited to see you again." 

Yuri rolls his eyes. "Right, the same people that didn't give me the time of day when I was a kid." 

Nikolai frowns. "Don't say that, boy, Varya has always been of great help to us." 

Varya is his grandfather's neighbor who took pity on them when Yuri's mother left. She worked two jobs but always made sure to share her bottles of milk with them. Whenever Yuri got sick, she was the one who watched over him. Yuri squirms, looking out the window in embarrassment. He hadn't remembered her or else he would've chosen his words better. 

"So, what news do you bring from the world?" Nikolai asks halfway there, reaching to tune the radio on. 

Yuri bats his hand away. "Let me do that, watch the road," he warns, going for the first station that pops up, one of Nikolai's favourites, old, melancholic, opera like songs playing one after the other. His grandfather immediately starts humming to it under his breath. "Oh, nothing new," Yuri sighs, "I signed with Lilia, debuted, did a couple shoots-" 

"Hn," Nikolai thrums his fingers on the wheel, "Met a boy..." 

Yuri whips his head around. He can't help it, he feels his cheeks heating. "What? Oh, grandpa, come on." 

"Will you say I'm lying now-" Nikolai starts amusedly. 

"Ugh, no, fine," Yuri takes his hands away from his face, "I met a guy. End of the story." 

"What, no names, no nothing?" Nikolai smirks, and then gives him a careful glance. "You did what I told you to? Protection-" 

"Grandpa, we didn't even," Yuri groans, "We didn't even do anything." 

They drive in silence for a moment. "Okay," Nikolai finally says. Yuri feels a bit guilty. 

"We, like," he begins uncertainly, nudging at the glove compartment's handle with the heel of his shoe. "We met in Paris," Nikolai hums to show he's paying attention, "He's from Kazakhstan, a DJ. Didn't you read that in the papers too?" 

Nikolai tips his head to the side faintly. "It's always good to hear from you. They don't always say the truth," he lifts both his eyebrows demonstratively, "The necklace, for example? Diamonds, Yuratchka?" 

Yuri laughs. "Trust me, if he had I would've fucking throttled him. Where did they come up with that? Some fucked up Cinderella syndrome?" 

"Well, as they say," Nikolai states, "Always a bit of truth in a lie." 

Yuri rolls his eyes. "Anyway, he's gone back to Kazakhstan for his sister's wedding. He says he will be back this week still," Yuri finishes, hoping his voice hadn't come out as idiotically hopeful as it'd sounded like to him. 

Nikolai nods, but if he'd noticed Yuri's fears he doesn't mention it, taking a right turn that leads them to the familiar neighbourhood Yuri's lived in during his whole life. It's quiet, thankfully not violent, with small, two-store houses kept together in blocks. The headlights illuminate the small park where the children use to play on. Everything is topped with snow now and there are no kids idiotic enough to be in it. 

"Well, however it is like," Nikolai says, pulling up at the garage. "If he wishes to see you, he's welcome for a visit," he pulls on the handbrake, "But he'll sleep on the sofa and your door is gonna be locked." 

 

\- 

 

Yuri's old bedroom remains the same, obviously cleared a little bit by Nikolai in anticipation for his visit. Yuri unloads his clothes and stores them away inside the wardrobe. Funny to think the smallest amount of clothes he owns now is already enough to fill the wardrobe he'd had as a kid. 

A ball of fur slinks around Yuri's legs. "Clawdia!" Yuri greets, bending to scoop her up. She looks old, but still retains the grumpy face Yuri'd gotten her for. She licks at his palm and growls for him to put her back on the floor. "Fine, gods, is that how happy you are for seeming me?" Clawdia sways her tail and walks out. 

Yuri heats up water for a bath, shivering down to his toe nails when finished, pulling on three socks and his grandfather's borrowed winter clothes. When he comes out of the bathroom it is to feel the incredible smell of recently made pirozhkis. Yuri practically levitates to the kitchen, where Nikolai is now sat at one of the kitchen chairs sipping from a hot mug. In front of him, a plate full of pirozhkis lie. 

"Oh, fuck," Yuri buries his teeth on the thin, crunchy layer. "You don't know how much I missed this shit." 

Nikolai smiles. "I think I do. Still eating salad all day long?" 

Yur shrugs one shoulder. Halfway into his second pirozhki there's a knock on the front door. It's Varya, along with her eight year old granddaughter, a platinum blond girl that clings to her leg and eyes Yuri as though he's a goddess. Varya hugs him, which Yuri doesn't appreciate coming from other people but in her case makes an exception, and asks how he's doing. 

"Good," Yuri gives the same, expected answer. 

"Are you sure? Those travels must tire you out so much. I was speaking to your grandfather the other day about it," Varya mentions, now sat with them at the kitchen table, her granddaughter sat on her knees watching Yuri swallow one pirozhki after the other. "Oh, dear, you must be so hungry. I should've brought you my homemade borscht but I didn't want to overstay my welcome. I'll stop by tomorrow with it." 

"Thanks," Yuri speaks around his food, which earns him a dismayed look from his grandfather. 

Yuri isn't looking directly at Varya but he can feel the way she carefully glances at Nikolai across him. "Oh, Yuri," she says, as though just remembering something. Yuri has a bad feeling about this, "I was talking to your grandfather yesterday, right, Nikolai? He said you're seeing someone," Yuri hums in disinterest and licks grease out of his fingers. "What's his name again? He's all little Yulia talks about," Varya nudges her granddaughter, who turns bright red and looks as though she's hyperventilating. "What was his name, Yulia?" 

Yulia shakes her head, glancing at Yuri fearfully. Yuri finishes licking his thumb with a pop, "You must mean Otabek." 

"Oh, that's it, funny name," Varya comments. "Well, anyway, we obviously don't want to meddle. We were just worried, they say so many things about you. But he seems to be nice, right? Musicians always have a tender heart, that's what my mother used to tell me. Well, anyway, darling, as long as you're happy." 

Varya waits with bated breath for Yuri to snatch the decoy. Yuri blinks at her, drying his hands on a dishrag nearby. "That's great. I brought you some stuff from Istanbul and Paris. Some might fit her too," Yuri nods in Yulia's direction, who looks as though she's about to faint. "I'll go get it, wait here." 

Varya mumbles lots of thanks and repeats herself for how much Yuri needn't have brought her anything. She has all the disadvantages an old woman her age has, including being a gossip, but Yuri really appreciates her. Again, she'd helped them out a lot when they needed to without hopes of ever getting anything in return for it. So whenever he could Yuri made sure to bring her some stuff. There were a lot of clothes and cosmetics that went without an owner after the shows and Yuri always got free access to any designer collection he'd signed with which now, of course, included Lilia's. He'd brought a spare baggage with those alone, and hands Varya and little Yulia all the fragrances, makeup and designer clothes he could fit inside it. 

Little Yulia's eyes sparkle at the items, looking as though she doesn't know how she's come across them. She hugs Yuri's legs tightly before Varya is set to depart. She laughs at her granddaughter's antics, "Look, Yuri, you've found yourself another fan." 

Yuri feels a little out of place with a kid hanging onto him. "It's nothing," he mumbles. 

Varya laughs, "You'll understand if you ever have a daughter." 

 

\- 

 

Yuri tosses and turns on his bed. Clawdia is curled around in a ball next to his feet and snarls at him whenever he moves. His old mattress feels different underneath him, the square window beside him showcasing the pale light of the moon, visible through a gap in the clouds. 

His cell phone vibrates with a text from Otabek. They had been texting ever since Yuri'd left the kitchen with his grandfather. Yur squints at the light of his phone to read his new message. 

_Still don't know,_ he'd answered, meaning Yuri's question as to when he'd be back in Russia. _As soon as possible._

_yes, you said that_ , Yuri types back. He regrets it as soon as he's hit the send button. It looks immature of his part, rude and clingy. Yuri doesn't want to be likened to any of that. So he scurries to find something else to talk about. 

_that necklace_ , Yuri types pensively. He can't get his grandfather's comment out of his mind. 

_Yes, that_ , Otabek answers before Yuri can say anything else.  
_I went to a jewelry in Paris. Got it for my sister,_  
_That's probably how they came up with that._

_oh, right_

_Yura?_

_yes_

_Do you miss me?_  
_Because I miss you, a lot._

Yuri smiles, _yes, I do_.  
_that's why I've been asking when you'll come here you asshole_

_I would right now,_  
_I swear,_  
_But my mother won't let me out of here before I accomplish the 12 labors of Otabek._

_hahaha_  
_poor baby_  
_have a picture of clawdia to cheer you up_ , Yuri snaps a picture of his cat's grumpy face and sends it to him, _isn't she adorable?_

 

\- 

 

With Yakov's approval, Yuri gets his hair cut. The length barely changes, reaching his ribs now instead of his waist. Yuri sends Otabek a picture, his naked back to the mirror and the frame ending just above his hips. He gets a heart eyes emoji in return. 

Spending the days with his grandfather means Yuri learns a couple more recipes, goes grocery shopping with him and once even to the bank, waiting one hour in line next to lots of other people to get his retirement money. When the evening comes they cook together in the kitchen, Clawdia patting after Yuri until he bends to serve the tuna cat appetizer he buys at Ivan's pet shop. 

The neighbourhood people are all ecstatic with the news of Yuri's visit, as is always the norm, trying to pull him into conversations in the middle of the street and stopping by his grandfather's house to chat. Most of them mention Otabek in hopes Yuri would jump to tell them all about it but they all go back disappointed. 

The end of the winter settles in, which means the temperature doesn't drop but doesn't increase either. Yuri has taken to walking around in his socks and slippers, an oversized hoodie and Otabek's jacket underneath. He's wearing that same outfit when he goes to get the mail. A recently printed copy of Vogue's last edition hits the coffee table, starting his grandfather out of his morning perusal of the newspaper. 

"What is that?" He asks, glancing curiously over the edge of the newspaper, "Ah," he makes, and folds it away to reach for the magazine. He stares at the cover for a minute before giving a small chuckle. "Were you naked for this?" 

Yuri half-chokes and half-laughs, falling on his ass on the sofa. "No, I wasn't. I was wearing underwear." 

Nikolai hums, pulling the plastic covering aside to filter through the pages. He licks his fingertips before turning each one, eyes sliding down the paper. His face remains the same, void of any expression save for quick eyebrow lifts. "Good," he settles with, putting the magazine back on the coffee table. Clawdia comes to sniff at it. 

Yuri hums, anxiously thumbing up and down his talk with Otabek. 

"Don't you ever let that phone go, kid?" His grandfather huffs, reaching for his newspaper once more. 

"Sorry, it's just-" Yuri pauses. It's just that Otabek has caught his flight a few hours ago and I'm dying to know if he's here already, Yuri wants to say. "Stuff," he ends up saying. 

"I see," Nikolai mumbles. 

They stay in silence for an unnerving minute when Yuri doesn't get any more messages. He bolts out of the couch. "I need to check the bathroom," he excuses himself. 

"You've cleaned it twice already," Nikolai calls after him from the living room. Yuri ignores him, spraying more air cleaner in the bathroom when he sees there's nothing else he can clean. He moves to his bedroom, where he decides his plain blue duvet looks too dull and takes it out to put his green one. He only stops when he realizes he's doing exactly what he'd promised himself he wouldn't do: overanalysing. He goes back to the living room and takes his seat on the sofa again. 

Nikolai eyes him amusedly. "Go read a book if you're so impatient." 

"I can't focus on anything, grandpa." 

Nikolai smirks and tilts his head to the side. "Go buy Clawdia more food then," he says, "The money is on the kitchen jar." 

Yuri huffs, but gets up to grab his wallet and heads out the door. 

The streets are packed with snow, the sound of metal grating against gravel itching Yuri's ear where a neighbour is cleaning his garage. A dog barks in the distance and Yuri passes the small playground. The sky is almost completely dark, which means Yuri should make some coffee when he gets back to the house. He's fallen into this easy rhythm with his grandfather, guiding their meals with the lighting outside rather than the hours on the clock. 

Ivan's pet shop is still open despite it being a Saturday. He's a fat, small man that houses seven cats behind the counter. They all eye Yuri when he walks inside to search the shells. 

"Yuri," Ivan greets, "Here again. How's your grandfather?" 

"All right," Yuri forces a smile. "And Mishka?" He asks, meaning one of Ivan's cats. Last time he'd been here Ivan had mentioned she was ill. 

"Oh, getting better," Ivan shrugs, and packs Yuri's purchases after he pays for it. "Hey, you should come back more often," he calls when Yuri opens the door to the shop. 

"I'll try," Yuri responds, and moves down the sidewalk on his way back. He passes the same playground where the children are still playing at. He spots Yulia among them and lifts a hand in a wave. She blushes but waves back proudly. The sound of a motorcycle engine has his bones rattling but Yuri doesn't see one when he looks around. He finds Varya, or else, she finds him when he's about to cross the street. She spends ten minutes thanking him for the gifts and how much Yulia'd appreciated them before Yuri excuses himself saying his grandfather must be worried about him. 

"Of course, of course, I wouldn't want to worry him. I'll bring your borscht later on tonight, I didn't forget it," she smiles and nods a finger at him. Yuri mumbles a small thanks and finally crosses the street. 

His heart does a complete somersault when he turns onto his street to find a black motorcycle parked in front of his house. Yuri's fingers tightens around the cat food and he hastens his footsteps. The dog still barks at a distance but Yuri runs the rest of the way to his front door, pulling it open in a single breath. 

Both Nikolai and Otabek turn to face him from where they are sitting on the sofa, on their way to take a sip of what smells strongly like coffee. Otabek stands up in a flash at the sight of him, "Yuri," he says, glancing at his grandfather warily. He'd probably meant to call him Yura but didn't know how Nikolai would like to hear it. 

Otabek is wearing a dark green suede jacket, his gloves folded atop the coffee table. He's also wearing a black beanie, something Yuri hadn't imagined would make him look so vulnerable. 

"Beka, hi," Yuri says, windswept. He pushes some strands of hair away from his face. He must look a mess, on his grandfather's sneakers that he'd put hastily on over the socks, hair carelessly falling out of his ponytail and the oversized hoodie that he swims inside, the collar of Otabek's leather jacket poking out of it. 

Nikolai's eyes go from one to the other amusedly. "Yuratchka, so good of you to join us. Your friend's brought me tea. The good ones." 

"I didn't know what to get," Otabek says nervously, almost apologetically, licking his lips and switching his gaze to Nikolai. 

Yuri nods, feeling ridiculous still standing by the door, cat food hanging on his hands. "That's nice, great," he makes himself turn to shut the door, toeing off the sneakers and taking tentative steps inside. "You said you would text," he says to Otabek, who is still standing with both hands on his thighs, watching Yuri as though he can't miss one movement. 

"I did, I'm sorry. But I came here as soon as I could. It was a bit of a mess. Anyway, my phone is dead," he says that very quickly and Yuri only gets a semblance of his meaning, but both look and feel so nervous with Yuri's grandfather there like a chaperone that Yuri nods in a haste. "I had to get my bike from the shipment and I only remembered your neighbourhood's name. I asked around for your number. A guy from a pet shop said you lived here." 

Yuri nods, "Oh, nice." 

"He's only been here for five minutes," Nikolai elaborates, and then gives Yuri a teasing smile, "So you didn't miss much." 

"Hum," Yuri makes, and looks at the floor when Clawdia comes up from around Nikolai's legs to stretch her back on his legs. "You met Clawdia," he says, more like a statement. 

Otabek nods, "She's beautiful." 

A silence falls around them. Yuri scoops Clawdia up but she growls at him and he lets her go for fear of looking too pathetic holding his cat that doesn't like to be held. Nikolai clears his throat, "Well, I suppose this is the time when I say I have to do something in the kitchen. Yuratchka, he's all yours." 

Nikolai gets up from his seat, takes his and Otabek's mugs after Otabek's thanked him again for it and heads to the kitchen. Yuri waits until he hears the sound of running water from the sink to run Otabek's way. Otabek meets him halfway, though he doesn't manage to get up from the couch, Yuri hurriedly straddling him on it to slot their lips together. 

Otabek cups his head firmly with both his hands, smashing their lips loudly together. He kisses Yuri's lips again and again, thumbs rubbing at his cheeks, still a bit cold from the air outside, and the tip of his nose. 

"When did you fucking-" Yuri groans, leaning down for another kiss desperately. "Why didn't you-" Otabek nips at his bottom lip, earning a strangled gasp out of him. Yuri wraps both arms around his shoulders, trapping Otabek's thighs between his knees. "I was fucking worried." 

"I'm _so_ sorry," Otabek pulls him in, mouth hovering over his cheek and then his earlobe, kissing the skin between Yuri's ear and neck. "But I said as soon as possible and I _had to_ -" 

"I know, I know," Yuri nods, angling Otabek's head to properly kiss him. Otabek's tongue on his feels mouth watering good, Yuri twines it around his own and relishes in the pleasure that runs down his spine, the feel of Otabek _right there_ , with him. 

They jump apart when Clawdia leaps to the sofa, giving Otabek a distrustful look and Yuri, a reproachful one. "Oh, fucking cat-" Yuri waves her away, but all Clawdia does is to remain there. 

"I'm going back to the living room," Nikolai announces loudly from the kitchen, "Whatever position you are in please don't let me see it." 

Otabek chuckles and Yuri curses, running to the other sofa. Clawdia continues to stare at him, curling around on the seat beside Otabek, where Yuri had guiltily left her cat food at. He licks his lips, still tasting Otabek on them, and switches his gaze to the clock when Nikolai appears from the kitchen doorwat. He takes in Yuri and Otabek, sat tightly and as far away from each other as possible before narrowing his eyes and nodding in approval. He takes the remaining seat beside Yuri with a sigh. 

"So, Otabek," Nikolai begins. 

"Grandpa-" 

"Yuri," he continues, "Don't worry. I won't scare him away. At least I don't think so. Are you easily scared, Otabek?" 

Otabek tenses, shaking his head as fast as he can. "No, sir." 

Nikolai laughs, both Yuri and Otabek stare at each other. "It's been a long time since someone last called me sir." 

"Sorry," Otabek mumbles, biting his bottom lip probably to refrain from saying the word sir again. 

"Well, Yuri," Nikolai glances at his grandson pointedly, "I was here having a little chat with Otabek. He's so far corroborated your version of the facts but of course I didn't doubt your words on that. He says he plays music. Right? What was it again?" 

"Electronic music," Otabek hastens to say. 

Nikolai considers that with a nod of his head, but the face he makes shows he doesn't think highly of it. 

"And classical too," Yuri puts in quickly. Nikolai's face lights up. 

"Oh, really?" He watches Otabek with new admiration, "Never knew Yuri would like a classical music guy-" 

"Grandpa," Yuri cuts in, cheeks flaming red. 

"But well, living and learning, as they say. Did you always want to be a musician, boy?" 

Otabeks nods fervently. "Yes. I did boxing first," Nikolai's eyebrows lift alarmingly, "But not anymore, just- just music now," Otabek tries to correct whatever impression he'd caused to be wrong. 

"Hn, you seem to be good at it. At least you're famous enough, right?" 

Otabek gulps, making a so-so tilt with his head. 

"Yuri hasn't told me much about you," Nikolai gives his grandson the stink eye, "But I did look you up on- Google, isn't it?" Both Yuri and Otabek nod, "Right, yes, so, Yuri doesn't seem to be the only model you've dated," Otabek's cheeks turn bright red, glancing at Yuri fearfully and opening his mouth to say something in his defense, "But that doesn't matter because you're not the first musician Yuri's dated either." 

"Grandpa," Yuri says through gritted teeth. Couldn't he stop using the word _dating_ and couldn't he stop embarrassing them? 

Nikolai shrugs as though it couldn't be helped. "Anyway, let's go straight to the point because I'm hungry and I think you are too," he tells Otabek, "Are you going to hurt my grandson? I'm not the one threatening you, just asking because Yuri can throw a mean punch." 

Otabek smiles tentatively, sending Yuri a fond glance. "No, no, sir, I hope I never will." 

Nikolai raises a single eyebrow and hums under his breath. Yuri watches him with bated breath. "Well, that's good enough," he finally says. "I think I'll go make pirozhki then. For your sake, Otabek, I hope you'll like it. And if you don't please be a good actor and hide it, I don't think Yuri would ever want to kiss you again if you don't." 

 

\- 

 

Yuri doesn't know what he had been expecting when having Otabek eating his grandfather's pirozhkis on their kitchen table. But he hadn't been expecting to be bombarded by Otabek's eyes when he takes off his hoodie in front of him. The table has four chairs, and Nikolai sits between them carefreely, biting into his own pirozhkis and staring pensively ahead. Yuri is left to smirk down at his plate when he pulls at the sleeves of Otabek's jacket. 

The air around them is way lighter, probably because Otabek'd already gotten Nikolai's approval of sorts. And also because they'd made out like teenagers when Nikolai had left them by themselves. 

Clawdia is lying at the far end of the kitchen, stretching and licking her paws. 

"It's very good," Otabek says, earnestly digging into his pirozhki. He seems to have genuinely liked it and Nikolai smiles. 

"Told you," Yuri says around his bite. 

"I used to cook them for Yuri since he was a boy," Nikolai explains, "He'd come back tired from ballet practice and I would cook some for him." 

Otabek looks up at Yuri and smiles, as though knowing about that memory has made his day. "He's always spoken highly of it." 

Yuri finishes swallowing his bite. "Oh, by the way, how was the wedding?" 

Otabek nods, "Fantastic. Just my relatives wouldn't stop," he shrugs shyly, "You know, asking about you." 

"Hun, same here," Yuri grumbles. "Shit, you must be hungry," Yuri comments when Otabek goes for his third pirozhki. 

"Sorry," Otabek says, and Nikolai gives Yuri a nasty look. Okay, maybe it wasn't polite pointing that out. 

"You can have as much as you want, Otabek," Nikolai says, "Yuri just wants it all to himself. The day he arrived here he ate six of them in quick succession-" 

"That's not true," Yuri lies. 

"Don't know how he hasn't grown fat already-" 

Nikolai is interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door, followed by a cheery voice. "Yuri, we brought you the borscht!" 

They exchange looks on the table. "Well, boys, sorry to say but if you wanted to keep this a secret..." Nikolai trails off pointedly. He gets up to get the door and Yuri glares at Otabek. 

"Don't answer anything she asks you," he warns through gritted teeth. 

Otabek blinks owlishly, looking completely dumbfounded. "What, but who-?" 

"Ah, thanks, Nikolai. Is Yuri inside? He must be hungry. By the way, there's a motorcycle in front of your door, I don't know who might have left it-" Varya halts, standing by the doorway to the kitchen, eyes taking in Otabek surprisingly. Her mouth hangs open, "-there." 

Otabek has frozen, pirozhki halfway up to his mouth. Yulia stumbles on her grandmother, turning to see what she's looking at and promptly widening her eyes, giving retreating steps back to the living room. Otabek thinks fast, putting the pirozhki back in place and standing to extend his hand. "Otabek Altin, nice to meet you, ma'am." 

Yuri knows Otabek cuts a striking pose. He is, by all means, an incredibly handsome man, but standing in Nikolai's tiny kitchen in his suede jacket – no beanie, Yuri had taken it out when they were making out -, stretching his hand and greeting an older lady politely he looks like a divine apparition, serious and cordial. 

"Oh, oh," Varya makes, glancing at Yuri quickly. "That's- Well, that's great. I mean, I'm Varvara, but you can call me Varya. Everyone here does," she chuckles and waves it away, shaking Otabek's hand. She's holding a pan on her other hand, the borscht it seems. "We truly didn't want to intrude. I brought borscht, have you ever tried it? Yuri loves my borscht, eats it since he was a little boy. Right, Yuri? And Yulia- oh, where is she?" 

Yulia is at the living room and refuses to go into the kitchen. Varya blushes. "I'm sorry, she seems to have forgotten her manners," she says to Otabek, "She's your little fan." 

Otabek raises his eyebrows. "Really?" 

Varya nods excitedly. "Knows all of your music. She wasn't expecting to meet you." 

"Can I-" Otabek indicates the living room, but he doesn't need to go there because Nikolai has coaxed Yulia into walking. She keeps her eyes firmly averted from them, face completely red. Yuri isn't a fan of children but he has to admit it's endearing. And Yulia is not the usual bratty kid that screams off the top of her lungs. Yuri still hasn't heard her voice. 

In the end Varya settles on the spare chair. She looks delighted that she's got to meet Otabek, a permanent pink hue tinging her cheeks. Yulia, though, refuses to sit on her lap like last time, probably because she's embarrassed to do so in front of her idol. Yuri rolls his eyes. 

"Come here," he motions for her to come closer. Yulia does so and doesn't fight him when he pulls her to his lap. She's heavier than she looks but it works out fine because they're sat in front of Otabek now and get to ogle him all they want. 

Something in Otabek's eyes shift when looking at them, Yuri in his jacket with a little kid on his lap. He smiles and only looks away when Varya asks him something. He answers her as politely as he can and Nikolai raises both his eyebrows at Yuri. They all eat the borscht and the remaining pirozhkis, chatting lightly. 

"Ah, Yuri, I saw your magazine cover on the coffee table," Varya says, "Sorry for noticing, but you look spectacular on it." 

Yuri gives her a quick smile. "Thanks," he's braiding Yulia's hair now that he's finished eating. 

"What magazine?" Otabek frowns, "Oh," he makes, "You mean Vogue." 

"Yeah," Yuri glances up at him. "Did you see it?" 

"I bought a copy at the airport," Otabek answers, and then blushes furiously, averting Nikolai's and Varya's eyes. Maybe he wished he hadn't said that in front of other people, most of all in front of Yuri's fucking grandfather. Yuri bites his lower lip hard enough so he won't feel like laughing. 

Varya clears her throat. "So, anyway, Yuri, thanks for the gifts. Yulia is wearing that makeup, you see? She wanted to come with me when I said I would be bringing you the borscht so she could show it you." 

"It's no problem," Yuri says, "It looks good on her." Otabek gives him a meaningful look. 

"Do you like makeup, Yulia?" Otabek bends to ask Yulia. She tenses on Yuri's lap, nodding once. Otabek smiles. "My sister does too. You remind me of her. She's seven, though. How old are you?" 

Yulia proudly lifts eight fingers to show him. Yuri chuckles while Otabek continues to talk to Yulia in a low voice, and finally settles the finished braid on her shoulder. When he looks up it's to find Nikolai and Varya exchanging big grins between them, looking from Otabek to Yuri. 

 

\- 

 

Yulia positively beams when Otabek hugs her on her way out. Varya seems happy when he hugs her too, nodding goodbye to Nikolai and Yuri before telling him in a low voice, "Yuri, he's wonderful, darling, I'm so happy for you." 

Yuri smiles and thanks her for the borscht. Varya waves him away and takes Yulia's hand when they go down the steps to the front door. Nikolai closes the door after them and turns to give Yuri and Otabek a serious look. 

"Now, young man," he tells Otabek, "The sofa can be folded back. Yuri will get you more blankets and a pillow," he tilts his head in Yuri's direction. "I'm going to bed, and so is Yuri. _And_ his door is gonna be locked." 

Yuri's mouth hangs open. "Grandpa, come on-" 

"Yuri," Nikolai cuts in, "We've talked about it before." 

Yuri purses his lips and twists his nose. "That's not fair," he hisses after his grandfather, following him down the hallway to his bedroom. "I'm on suppressants, please, grandpa," he insists. Otabek is still at hearing distance and looks like he wants to be anywhere else _but_ there listening, looking away with a blush and scratching the top of his head. "I'll even take the birth control if you want. And condoms, we'll go buy them now." 

Nikolai's name should be defined as 'mountain that can't be moved'. He stares Yuri in the eyes and says: "No." 

Yuri groans, even going as far as stomping his feet. "Grandpa, come on, please, I've never asked you for anything-" 

Nikolai huffs. "Only a thousand." 

"Please." 

"Sorry, Yuratchka," Nikolai grins sadly, "You'll understand it some day." 

Yuri crosses his arms. "Doesn't matter. You know I'll do it even if you don't want to. You're a heavy sleeper." 

Nikolai smirks. "I know you will. But will he?" He points at Otabek over Yuri's shoulder.


	13. Chapter 13

Yuri can hear the gentle, muffled sounds of his grandfather tinkering away in the kitchen. Groaning, he gets up from his bed and stretches his limbs. He'd slept terribly, which meant he had barely slept at all. He'd stayed up all night blowing Otabek's phone off, commanding him to go and get the key to his bedroom. Otabek, when he answered, only said that he was sorry and that he couldn't do it. Of course. Fucking polite gentleman. 

The memory has Yuri's lips curling, and despite the cold he puts on the smallest pair of shorts he owns and a big sweater. He pads out into the hallway to find the sofa empty, the blankets neatly folded on top of it. 

"Where's Beka?" Yuri asks his grandfather once stepping into the kitchen. 

Nikolai is making the coffee, the kitchen table set with three plates and mugs. "Otabek is out to get more bread," he says, giving the length of Yuri's shorts a disapproving, pointed glance. 

"He didn't have to," Yuri mumbles, taking his seat on one of the chairs and pulling his leg up. 

"He insisted," Nikolai sits across him, settling the coffee pot on the table. The toaster gives a low, whirring sound that signifies the toasts have stopped burning. Yuri moves to get them and takes a bite out of one of them. Nikolai eyes him crossly. 

"Honestly, boy, where are the manners I taught you?" 

Yuri mostly ignores him, taking his seat back and spanning his hand down his sweater to get the crumbs off. "He can't go around much here. People will talk." 

Nikolai rolls his eyes, serving his own coffee and delicately stirring it with a teaspoon. "All people ever do is talk. Nah, he's used to it," he takes a sip, "And so should you be." 

Yuri stares at him questioningly. Nikolai sighs, "Well, if you're planning on making this into a serious relationship you'll have to be prepared for the attention it will get." Yuri makes a face, scratching the back of his head and pulling his hair up in a ponytail for distraction. He should get it washed today, it's already becoming greasy. Nikolai continues, "Right? Does Yakov know?" 

Yuri snorts, "Yakov is the last person I want to talk about this with." 

Nikolai considers him, "It's up to you, Yuratchka," he says, taking the knife to serve more jelly on his toast. "By the way, don't give the boy a hard time because he didn't do what you wanted last night." 

Yuri raises one eyebrow, "Who says I'm trying to?" 

Nikolai gives him unimpressed eyes before shaking his head. There's a sound from the front gate and they both exchange looks. Nikolai admonishes him to put his leg down. Yuri doesn't do it. Otabek enters the kitchen wearing the same attire from yesterday, including the beanie. He looks sheepish, settling the breads on the table and excusing himself for whatever reason. 

He gives Nikolai a respectful good morning and does the same to Yuri, who pouts and tilts his head up for a kiss. Otabek hesitates, glancing at Nikolai, who smirks and looks pointedly up at the ceiling, lowering his eyes after the snap of a kiss. 

Otabek takes his gloves off, blowing on his hands before serving his own coffee. There's silence at the table, and Otabek clears his throat, "It's really cold in here." 

Nikolai grins, "Yes? Yuri doesn't seem to be feeling it though." 

Otabek blushes at that, having obviously noticed Yuri's shorts. Yuri gives Nikolai the tongue. "I'm used to it, Beka," he says around his mouthful of toast. Nikolai doesn't even try anymore. "Hm, what would you like to do today?" 

Otabek shrugs. 

"Have you been to Moscow before?" Nikolai asks. Otabek nods in affirmation. 

"Maybe we could just stay inside," Yuri offers all too happily. 

"Yes, maybe you could," Nikolai endorses, a mocking tone to his voice, "I need someone to wash the dishes and clean the kitchen. Oh, and the garden needs some clearing off too. Maybe you and Otabek could do it." 

Otabek swallows his toast quickly. "Of course," he hastens to say. 

Yuri glares at his grandfather. He seemed to be intent on not letting them out of his sights, delighting on the fact that Otabek was too much of a good boy to not lick his shoes. He had probably been the one to send him out for more bread. Actually, scratch that, Otabek had totally offered himself. "Don't you have anything else to do? Maybe get the newspaper." 

"Ah, I got it already," Otabek pulls his mug out of his lips to say, patting the plastic bag he'd brought in alongside the bread proudly, "The _Moskovsky_ , like you asked?" 

Nikolai preens, nodding. "Well, Yuri, as you can see, Otabek's already done that for me." 

Yuri sends Otabek a dark look. " _Great_ ," he says through gritted teeth, "But you said you'd take your car up to check the heater, right? Maybe you should get going then. Me and Beka need to get started on the _cleaning_ ," Yuri smirks. 

Otabek opens his mouth, "Actually..." 

 

\- 

 

Yuri stares at his nails while Otabek hunches inside his grandfather's car, tinkering with the heater. Nikolai watches them from the porch, sat on his armchair and wrapped around a blanket, every once in a while throwing his head back in laughter when Yuri makes sure to stand as close to Otabek as possible to hand him a screwdriver. The snow on the garden almost reaches their ankles and Yuri had had to change out of his shorts and into a pair of pants. He put on a crop top though, folding the hem of his coat up so his belly was still on display. Otabek looked uncomfortable that he was making his intentions clear in front of his grandfather, who he seemed to respect a fucking lot, gulping and staring away from Yuri's body, sometimes looking like he was on the verge of laughing. 

Yuri didn't care. Oh, fuck them both. What was wrong with getting some action for god's sake? Were they all born in the Middle Ages and Yuri was the only one who wasn't aware of that? 

"I think," Otabek mumbles, turning the heater on. It whirrs and splutters and Otabek clicks his tongue. He messes with more buttons and pulls it off to attach the cables. How the fuck was he good on that too? 

"Gods, did you come with, like, a hundred and one skills and I was the only one who didn't read your fucking manual?" Yuri asks, flabbergasted at the ease Otabek seems to possess. 

Otabek glances at him and smirks. "Something like that. My father taught me a lot of stuff." 

"Holy shit," Yuri groans. "You could've left that part out, you know. Now my grandpa will make you fix everything around the house and I'll be fucking left off. You sure you don't want to fuck him instead?" 

Otabek flushes, red as a tomato. Yuri didn't know he was tender to the word 'fuck', but apparently he turned into a goodie two shoes when his grandfather was in the vicinity. Was he raised to be one of those noble guys from the nineteenth century, to court and impress the parents before asking for the hand? 

"You don't understand," Otabek voices, "Older people are like that," he shrugs. "You've gotta win them first," he bites on the end of one of the cables, twirling it around with his fingers before attaching it to one of the ends, "And then they accept you." 

Yuri frowns. He honestly doesn't see that working. He loves his grandfather, but he could be stubborn as a mule some times, something that had passed on to Yuri. 

"I think now it's good," Otabek says, putting the heater back in place. It splutters once before the engines starts running. Otabek smiles victoriously. 

Yuri huffs. "My hero, fixing my grandfather's heater," he rolls his eyes dramatically, "What would be of us without you?" 

Otabek winks, leaning to kiss Yuri's belly. Yuri shivers, and it's not because of the cold. Otabek steps out of the car and pulls Yuri to his side. Oh, but Yuri couldn't wait to get him alone. 

Nikolai thanks Otabek and goes to the living room to read the newspaper, giving them some privacy to wash the dishes from breakfast. Otabek washes, elbows deep in foam while Yuri leans as provocatively as possible on the counter next to him to dry them. "You know," Yuri says, "Odds are my grandfather isn't leaving the house so we should probably go do something around the city." 

"Yeah?" Otabek makes, handing him a wet plate. Yuri takes it. "Like what?" 

"Touristic shit. You can upload more photos on your social accounts." 

Otabek chuckles, "Aisha does that enough for me." 

"Aisha?" Yuri asks, for a moment confused, "Ah, your little sister. She does. She said you were texting someone at the wedding," Yuri winks, leaning closer on his tip toes, "I'm jealous." 

Otabek grins, suddenly lunging to nip Yuri's lips. "Sorry. I was just texting this gorgeous blond I couldn't get out of my head." 

"Oh?" Yuri makes playfully, chasing after Otabek's lips and smiling into the kiss. 

 

\- 

 

They end up going to the Red Square. Otabek had been to it before and so had Yuri, a thousand times, so they just use the opportunity to spend more time together. The place is full of tourists and Yuri and Otabek are only two more people among them, which means no one pays them any mind when they obnoxiously kiss everywhere. 

There's this feeling of freedom and absolute happiness that bubbles inside Yuri. He pulls away from Otabek's kisses for a moment to look him in the eye. They smile to each other and lean closer to kiss again, Otabek's arms around his waist and Yuri's around his shoulders, palming at his jaw and the light stubble that pricks his skin. It makes Yuri shiver down to his toes. 

"I feel like I'm cheating," Otabek mumbles. Yuri hums, pecking his lips. 

"How so?" 

"You came to visit your grandfather," Otabek explains, kisses descending to Yuri's neck. 

Yuri pulls him closer by the lapels of his jacket – which he had given him back. "So did you." 

"We left him by himself," Otabek finishes his reasoning. 

"He has Clawdia. And we will be back," Yuri smiles, pulling away to dangle in Otabek's arms. "When are you going?" He hates to ask it but he has to. 

Otabek hums, pulling him in for another, tongue-heavy kiss. A tourist laughs out loud somewhere in the distance. "I think tomorrow." 

"What?" Yuri gawks, "Why do you always choose such romantic moments to say you'll be going away the next day?" He whines. 

Otabek gives him a sad smile. "Sorry. I'll go to St Petersburg though. Still not done with Victor's music." 

Yuri makes a pensive face. Not so bad. He had been planning to leave Moscow at the end of the week, maybe he could go back in time to catch Otabek still there. "And then?" He asks, leaning away from Otabek's hold to watch as he scurried to pull him in, hands sliding down almost to Yuri's ass. 

"Then England. The festival, remember? My agent will be sending me the tickets some time this week. Will you go with me?" Otabek asks, hopefully. 

Yuri grins, smacking his chest. "Why do you make questions you already know the answers to?" 

Otabek smiles, leaning to kiss him again, their teeth clacking together. "Not true. You just like to keep me guessing." 

Yuri laughs, but then nudges Otabek's chin with his head lightly. "Well, sir," he smiles, pulling them as close as he can, "You don't have to guess anything anymore." 

Otabek beams, "Is that right?" 

Yuri smirks mischievously, pulling his phone out instead of answering. "You need a picture here," he says, stepping back from Otabek's arms. Otabek lets them fall beside him with a sigh, amusedly looking away from the camera. 

"Come on, Yura, I don't like pictures." 

Yuri laughs, "Just one," he insists, pulling Otabek by the hand until he's standing directly in front of the State Historical Museum. Otabek stalls and looks away, "For me, Beka. Please," Yuri asks, and Otabek squares his shoulders, nodding and standing less awkwardly. Yuri snaps a picture of him and shows it to Otabek, who makes a face and asks him to delete it. 

"No way," Yuri chuckles, "This one is going online," he is careful to log out of his account lest _he_ ends up posting Otabek's photo, which would be an action Yakov could justly define as _incriminating_. Otabek thumbs in his password and grudgingly posts the photo on his Instagram. "Caption it something nice," Yuri says, but Otabek's social media skills are quite terrible so in the end he settles for just tagging his location as the Red Square. A small part of Yuri earns to somehow be inserted into that picture, a kind of possessive streak he'd never really minded before. People would know Otabek had been here, that someone must have snapped the picture and though it made him feel glad they wouldn't know it was him it still made him... jealous? Yuri couldn't interpret it very well. Only that lying in the shadows wasn't as nice as it had once been. Yuri wanted people to know Otabek was his, even though he wasn't. 

 

\- 

 

They decide to buy takeout for dinner, to eat with Nikolai back at the house. There's a compartment under the seat of Otabek's motorcycle where they put it inside and Yuri feels weird for sitting on top of his food. He tells Otabek that and he breaks out laughing. 

"Isn't it?" Yuri asks. 

Otabek laughs and shakes his head. "You're unbelievable," he climbs up and waits for Yuri to finish clasping his helmet. 

"By the way," Yuri says, throwing one leg over the motorcycle and settling behind Otabek, "Do you think we could stop at a drugstore? I need to buy more suppressants." 

He can feel the way Otabek's shoulders tense but he nods and after ten minutes of speeding down Moscow's busy streets they spot a drugstore. Otabek follows him in, which Yuri hadn't been counting on for the simple fact that now it would be weird to buy condoms. The store is fairly empty though, and they walk down the aisles lazily. 

"You know," Otabek begins, staring at the shells and not at Yuri. He seems to be anxious, "When your grandfather said that you'd dated musicians before..." He trails off. 

Yuri turns to smile at him over his shoulder. "He was saying the truth." 

"Oh," Otabek nods, scratching the back of his head. He shifts to stand just a bit closer to Yuri, which he had probably hoped Yuri wouldn't notice. Yuri did. 

"Do you want to know who-" 

"Only if you're comfortable with telling me," Otabek hastens to say. It's so fucking obvious he's dying to know it. Yuri laughs. 

"Right, he was a jerk, just so you know," Yuri says, stalling in front of a shell containing several nail polishes. He takes a silver glittered one and throws it at the plastic basket Otabek's holding. 

"Was it JJ?" Otabek asks in a single breath, eyes fixed on Yuri expectantly. 

Yuri snarls, "Fuck, no," he twists his lips in disgust, "Ew, where did you fucking come up with that?" 

Otabek grins sheepishly, but his body visibly slackens with relief. "You seem not to like his girlfriend so much, and with the way you avoid them. Your grandfather said that and well, I was suspicious." 

"Oh, finally!" Yuri exclaims. Otabek looks at him questioningly. "Found a flaw on you," Yuri elaborates with a chuckle, "You'd make a terrible detective." He walks further down the aisle, throwing a strawberry lotion at the basket. "Isabella is a bitch and JJ is a stuck-up idiot." 

Otabek hums in agreement. Yuri turns to look at him, his eyes dark and his jaw clenched. "You hate his guts too, don't you? I saw the way you looked at him at the party. Like his songs sounded like nails down a chalkboard." 

Otabek laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Pretty much, yes. It's an old brawl, mostly," Otabek continues. He slings an arm around Yuri's waist, and Yuri walks alongside him, holding onto his hand with one of his own. "I had a project for this new song a few years ago. We had the same recorder, same agent, same everything. He never spoke to me, which, all right," Otabek shrugs, "I like to keep to myself too, but you know? He clearly ignored me. Anyway, I extended an invitation for him to participate on the song with me. He said no, then recorded it himself and released it in his new album." 

Yuri gaps, "What the fuck?! What did you do? Are you suing him? Because you have to, Beka." 

Otabek looks away. "I don't know, my agent at the time was fucked up, he wouldn't let me. I've got a new one now." 

"Of course he was fucked up, he was fucking sided with JJ. Argh," Yuri growls. How could Otabek stand such a thing with this level of parsimony? "What an asshole," he fumes, "Sue them both." 

Otabek grins, "I'll try." 

"You better, or else I will." 

Yuri comes to a stop to ask the pharmaceutic his suppressants. It's a huge box with several pills that have Otabek's eyes widening. Yuri throws it at the basket and sighs. "Anyway, the guy I dated was the vocalist for a metal band. A total fucker, as I told you. It lasted like, one month. Found out he was fucking two other models behind my back." 

Otabek's face turns serious, as though he could personally punch Yuri's ex if he showed up around the corner. "I'm sorry." 

Yuri shrugs, "Not your fault, it's just that- Mila?" 

The woman down the aisle drops the box she'd been holding, whipping her head around to the sound of Yuri's voice and, yes, it's Mila, in a wool parka and boots, red hair falling in curls. "Yuri, Otabek?" She says, eyes wide with surprise. 

"Mila, you gigantic bitch," Yuri runs up to her, hugging her down the waist. "You said you'd go back to St Petersburg. I thought you were there though you wouldn't fucking tell me anything." 

Mila stands rigid inside Yuri's embrace and gives a tight smile when he steps back to give her a reprimanding look. There are dark circles under her eyes but she looked better than when he'd last seen her in Paris. "What happened?" Yuri asked, lower now. "Are you sick? You never really left me hanging like that-" 

Mila quickly shakes her head to stopper Yuri's flow of words. Her eyes dart to Otabek, still standing at the same spot he'd been in. "Otabek," she says, nodding his way. "How have you been?" 

"Good," Otabek says with a nod. "And you, Mila?" 

Mila gulps. "Well. Better, I think. Thank you." 

Yuri's eyes go back and forth between them. They spoke to each other just like these two rival mafia bosses Yuri'd watched in a movie once, face completely blank and voices eerily calm. Mila finally turns to Yuri. 

"Yuri, there's nothing to worry about. I'm not sick. As I said, I took a break. I'll be back next week. I've signed a contract with an American brand." 

"America?" Yuri mumbles, suddenly very lost. He directs his eyes elsewhere, at the shelves and the products before fixing them on Mila again. "But that's so far." 

Mila gives a tiny smile. "It'll only be for a while. One year at most. There's a fashion show and I'm-" she pauses, gulping, "Very excited." 

Yuri just stares at her. She looked the same, physically, but something about her had changed. She seemed colder now, to a degree Yuri couldn't quite put his finger on. It seems fake, but Yuri knows it isn't. But she isn't the same. This Mila, Yuri figures, wasn't his friend. His Mila, _his_ friend wouldn't have left him hanging for a word back and would have been there to listen to him brag about Otabek even though it would probably tire her out. Yuri shakes his head minutely while staring at her. 

"Okay, that's- Great. Good luck," he says with a shrug, maybe way colder than he'd intended but fuck, was he tired of her bullshit. 

"Good luck to you too," she says, and glances at Otabek. She seems to be meaning both of them. Yuri nods quickly. 

"Beka," he calls, "Let's go." 

 

\- 

 

Yuri spends the whole way back with his head on Otabek's shoulder. He feels warm, like Yuri's favourite blanket or some shit like that. But mostly he felt like an anchor. 

Yuri wasn't _sad_ , he was just confused and angry. Why did she lie to him? She said she would go back to St Petersburg. Yuri had offered to stop by to see her and she'd made an excuse. Yuri clicks his tongue, burying his nose on Otabek's leather jacket to wash away his thoughts. Otabek was real, Otabek took the first flight back to Russia to see him, hadn't gone back to St Petersburg like Victor wanted and had flown all the way to Moscow just to see Yuri. Even though it meant sleeping on the sofa in Yuri's tiny, childhood house and having to put up with his grandfather and whatever silent agreement they'd come to to protect him. 

When Otabek pulls up at the garage and dismounts the bike he reaches to cup Yuri's cheek. "Are you all right?" He asks softly, thumb rubbing his cheek, eyes aglow in the night. 

Yuri nods. "Just tired, and hungry." 

Otabek's lips tug at the corners. "We're going to eat now, okay? Then you can go to bed." 

Yuri whines, "Will you go with me?" He tugs at Otabek's jacket. 

"Yura," Otabek sighs, "You know I want to-" 

"Then why don't you-" 

"Please, don't ask that of me," Otabek says. "Yura, I want you more than anything right now." 

"Then why don't you have me?" Yuri growls. 

"Because I want it to mean something," Otabek confesses. He gulps and looks away, at the end of the street. "And frankly, because I'm scared of your grandfather. What if he listens through the walls?" 

Yuri stares at him for a moment before laughing. "Right, okay. But in St Petersburg," he finally dismounts the bike, "You will stay with me. In my apartment, right? And not whatever place Victor kept you at." 

Otabek nods. "Yes. Yes, please."


	14. Chapter 14

It's not completely without reluctance that Nikolai allows them to sleep together. After dinner he only instructs Otabek and Yuri as to lock the front door and take the trash out before going to bed. He then gives them careful glances before excusing himself to his bedroom. Yuri is appalled at how easy it's been to make up his mind considering the effort he had been putting on yesterday, but he supposes he had to give it to Otabek. Apparently, some true serial killer psychological persuasion had been going on to the point where bringing Nikolai his favourite takeout had been the breaking point. Otabek had only mentioned once, in passing, during dinner that he'd slept well on the sofa but he missed a bed before Nikolai shrugged and made a face. 

"Well, I suppose you can keep Yuri company tonight," he'd said, and then in a harsher tone when spotting Yuri's huge grin, "With common propriety, of course." 

It's a bit unnerving, though, because now Yuri is anxious. He and Otabek do as asked and silently take the trash out before locking the front door. It's eerily silent inside the house, only the soft sounds of Nikolai's slippers coming from inside his bedroom. 

"Well," Yuri shrugs, "We should get going then. Where is your stuff?" 

Otabek grabs his backpack and follows Yuri into his bedroom. Yuri had already shown him around it today, the square window beside his bed and the small wardrobe, the walls painted a light, now dirty blue. There wasn't really much in it, a few personal touches that'd meant a lot to him in his teenage years but now were somehow faded with time. Yuri looks around as Otabek settles his backpack next to the door. 

"You can change into your sleeping clothes, I think," Yuri says, not quite knowing what to do now. Otabek inside his bedroom is like a fantasy that had surprisingly become true, and now he was left without really knowing how to react to it. 

Otabek nods and collects his clothes, tilting his head in the direction of Yuri's bathroom. "Can I-" 

"Sure, yeah, go ahead," Yuri hastens to say. He watches as Otabek makes his way into the bathroom, and then as he closes the door shut before releasing a sigh. Oh, what was wrong with him? Yuri felt giddy but also a bit nervous? He clicks his tongue, undressing out of his street clothes and opening his wardrobe. If it were summer this could turn a bit more fun but the Russian winter was a terrible cockblock so Yuri dressed in a pair of his old pyjamas. He folds his clothes back and stores them away just when Otabek opens the door to the bathroom. 

He's wearing red wool socks, sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. Yuri doesn't mean to but he can't stop his eyes from lingering on the wool socks. 

"What?" Otabek asks self-consciously, looking down at himself. 

"Just... Are those wool socks?" 

Otabek chuckles, "Yes, my mother made them for me," he says it with a grin, as though he knows exactly what it's doing to Yuri's retinas. 

"Gods, grandpa shouldn't be worried after all. This is the most powerful contraceptive there is," Yuri mumbles, shaking his head and moving to the bed. 

Otabek laughs. "You don't mean that. They keep my feet warm." 

Yuri sits at the edge of his bed, punching the pillow until he deems it soft enough. "I bet. You're such a mama's boy." 

Otabek looks sheepish, scratching the back of his head before edging closer to the opposite side of the bed. Yuri's bed isn't large but it can fit two people. "I don't know, probably," he murmurs, "She used to stitch us the most horrendous stuff then made us wear it to school." 

Yuri lies back on the mattress, staring up at Otabek with a grin, "Hn, terrible." 

Otabek finally sits at the bed, adjusting his pillow before lying down. Yuri turns on his side to watch him, cheek resting on his palm. Otabek does the same after a moment looking up at the ceiling. 

"Hi," he says to Yuri. 

Yuri smiles, "Hey." 

They'd seen each other up close before, _of course_ , but something about lying face-to-face in bed together makes their eyes scurry down the other's features. Yuri notices Otabek has these dark and tiny, almost unnoticed freckles, on the top of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His eyes look darker too, the straight line of his nose and the jut of his jawline. Otabek is lost to the shade of Yuri's eyes, light green and so _strong_ , the clear eyelashes that flutter with every blink. Yuri has this unmarred, porcelain skin that Otabek's always found so attractive, his nose perky and delicate, his lips rosy and looking _so_ kissable. 

"Has anyone ever told you you're beautiful?" Otabek asks absentmindedly, reaching softly to gather a strand of Yuri's hair with his fingers. 

Yuri chuckles softly, "Yes, plenty of times, but thank you. You are beautiful yourself, you know?" Yuri murmurs, and then a memory comes to his mind, "Or else you wouldn't have been voted, what was it? Hottest musician of the year." 

Otabek winces and groans in embarrassment. Yuri laughs. "Forget about that, please." 

"Why?" 

"It's disturbing," Otabek says. 

Yuri rolls his eyes, "It's not. You can't blame people for having two functional eyes." 

Otabek grins, still watching Yuri as though he's the most precious thing he's ever seen. It has Yuri shifting a bit. Otabek's hand descends to cup his neck, pulling him closer which Yuri promptly attends to, letting his eyes flutter closed when their lips meet. It's nothing but lingering, chaste kisses that resound softly around the room. Of course the proximity to Otabek's body has Yuri shivering in all the best ways possible. He doesn't even know if he's got it in himself to defy his grandfather and convince Otabek to have sex with him. In some way, he doesn't think Otabek can be moved into doing so, and in some other way, Yuri was quite glad with what they had now, this sort of intimacy that didn't ask for anything else. 

Yuri's brow furrows when a thought hits him, and he pulls back slightly to stare at Otabek. "Can I ask you something?" 

Otabek nods quietly, index finger running up Yuri's cheek to shed a strand of blond hair away. 

"Do you know what's happened to Mila?" It seems like a tender topic. Hell, it _is_ a tender topic. But Yuri can't help but feel somehow moved by their encounter today. The realization that Mila had been avoiding him still tastes foreign to Yuri, like a bad medicine he'd been made to swallow and wasn't sure about its effects. And he knows Otabek was friends with Mila, and knows she'd begun acting weirdly after Paris, when Yuri'd gone back to find her standing and talking to Otabek urgently at the party. He has this feeling that Otabek _knows_ , and his interaction with Mila today had been nothing but suspicious. 

Otabek's lips part in his haste to say something, but he only watches Yuri for some time before the corner of his lips tug slightly. "I do. But it's not right of me to tell you, Yura." 

"Why not?" The admission that something was indeed wrong with Mila and that Otabek knew what it was but wouldn't tell him made Yuri appropriately shocked. "She's my friend too, you know. She was my friend before she was yours, actually." 

"I know that," Otabek acquiesces him. "But it's not my place, I- She'll tell when she feels she has to." 

Yuri groans, but instead of crossing his arms and turning away he shuffles closer to Otabek until resting his face on his collarbone. Otabek's arms come to wrap around him, and the way his body fits next to Yuri's should be something to write novels about. It feels so comfortable, and _safe_. Was it weird? They didn't know each other for a long time now, but Otabek had a soothing personality that Yuri couldn't help but be attracted to, even though it contrasted so obviously with his own. 

"Can you at least tell me why she won't talk to me?" Yuri murmurs. He'd been sleepy before but now, draped in Otabek's warmth from head to toe, Yuri can feel this lazy drowsiness settling in. 

Otabek takes a moment to answer, a hand going up and down Yuri's spine soothingly. "She is embarrassed." 

Yuri huffs, but it doesn't carry the weight he'd been putting into it. He just wants to sleep more than anything else. Otabek smells so good, like some sort of smoky honey; Yuri doesn't know how to describe it, but it's masculine and reminds him of warm spots next to the hearth. "Mila is never embarrassed about anything." 

"She'll be fine," Otabek kisses the top of his head, "Just give her some time." 

 

\- 

 

Yuri sleeps fitfully, but not in a bad way. Whenever he begins to stir awake and recognizes the thin thread of consciousness he will settle against Otabek and fall back asleep again. It's comforting, having this warm presence beside him, their legs entwined and limbs askew over the other. Yuri hopes he hasn't drooled on him. 

The last time he stirs awake though, Otabek is not there. This is what finally brings him back to the world of the living, where he blinks against the shallow sunlight filtering through the blinds that Otabek had so gently slid closed for him. 

Sitting up in bed Yuri perks up his ears after some movement around the house. He finds it, the muffled sound of voices coming from the kitchen. Nikolai and Otabek are probably talking in there, which is dangerous. 

Yuri stretches his legs and puts his feet down on the floor, ready to go after them and chastise Otabek for leaving the bed without him when he suddenly emerges on Yuri's doorway. 

"Oh," Otabek makes at the sight of him. He's still in his sleeping clothes, though now thankfully rid of the socks. "Thought you were still asleep." 

Yuri grunts in response, eyes settling on Otabek's hands, where he is holding something that looks a lot like a mug. "What is that? Coffee? Give it to me," Yuri croaks, reaching blearily for it. Otabek chuckles amusedly, but hands Yuri the mug without hesitance. 

Yuri makes a face at the taste. It was milk with coffee. He decides not to shame Otabek for it because it's still too early in the morning. Right? "What time is it?" 

Otabek hums, but goes take a place on the edge of his bed, pulling Yuri's legs over his lap comfortably. "A little past ten," Otabek says, "Your grandfather has been up since six." 

Yuri rolls his eyes. "Of course. Did he give you shit for anything?" Yuri asks, gagging after taking another sip from Otabek's mug. 

Otabek shakes his head, a small grin on his lips. "Not really," he shrugs, "he's a nice guy. You know, I can make you another mug," Otabek frowns when Yuri takes another gulp of his terrible milked coffee. 

"No need. This tastes horrible by the way but I'm fucking famished," Yuri says, and when Otabek continues to frown he understands it's not the insulting of his coffee that is getting at Otabek's nerves. It's just that he seems to be a pussy about sharing his mug. Yuri snorts, "You know, we kiss all the time. My spit is your spit now, no need to be disgusted." 

"It's not disgust," Otabek defends himself, reaching faintly for his mug back. 

"No?" Yuri lifts an eyebrow teasingly. "So if I spit in it on purpose you'd still drink it?" Yuri moves to do as told and Otabek takes the mug from him quickly, to Yuri's absolute delight. 

"Yura," Otabek says in a soft, admonishing voice. 

Yuri laughs, "Come on, Beka, I'll drink yours if you drink mine." 

Otabek grimaces, "I'll get you a fresh one," he moves to take Yuri's legs out of his lap but doesn't deny Yuri when he moves to kiss him. It feels so domestic, the bitter taste of coffee lingering in their mouths and the sheets where they'd both slept in rustling around them. They part with a soft smacking sound, their foreheads touching. Yuri shifts his eyes up to Otabek. 

"Good morning," he murmurs. Otabek smiles back in response, humming and inclining to kiss him again. 

"Morning," he whispers back. 

"Ah, already at it, I see." 

They draw apart quickly when Nikolai's voice resounds around the room. Yuri's grandfather is standing by the doorway, a mug of his own coffee in hand as he gives them a disapproving grin. "Yuratchka, you slept so much our guest had to play chess with me to pass the time." 

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Yuri groans, "did you really?" He turns to Otabek. 

Otabek shrugs. "Your grandfather is a master. He beat me in all of the matches." 

Nikolai preens. "Well, it was nothing. I did tell you to pay more attention to your towers." 

Yuri huffs at his grandfather's pleased expression. "That's great. Where's the food?" 

They move to the kitchen, where Yuri sits on the chair and munches on anything he can get his hands on. Otabek, ever the gentleman, makes fresh new toasts for him. "He is always like that, Otabek," Nikolai is saying, "he didn't starve as a kid, in case you're wondering, he's just always been a glutton." 

"Grandpa," Yuri berates around his food. 

Otabek smiles, and wisely doesn't say anything to that, ducking to check his phone on the table. Nikolai stays silent, sipping from his mug and reading his newspaper calmly. Yuri finishes his breakfast hurriedly, if only because he wants more time alone with Otabek, dumping his dishes in the sink and turning on his heels back to the bedroom. "Grandpa, we'll do the dishes later. Beka, can I show you something?" He says, sliding his hand down Otabek's shoulders in passing. 

He can practically _feel_ the exchange of gazes between them, but moves on to his bedroom, slumping back down on the mattress. Clawdia follows him in, jumping on the bed and rubbing her body against him. "What do you want, girl?" Yuri murmurs, but pulls her in to pet. Clawdia purrs accordingly but still stares at him with the eyes of murder. In a way Yuri feels she's never forgiven him for leaving for St Petersburg. 

Otabek shows up again. "What is it?" He asks, pocketing his phone and moving closer to the bed. 

"What?" 

"The thing you wanted to show me." 

Yuri huffs, "That was a ruse to get us away from grandpa," Yuri demystifies, and before Otabek can say anything in retort, which it seems like he will do, Yuri continues, "Come on, lie down with me," he pats the mattress beside him. 

"We've only just gotten up." 

"Yes, but it's fucking freezing outside and you will be leaving today and maybe I just want more cuddle time." 

Otabek's lips extend into this giant grin. "Oh," he says, and goes to lie next to Yuri, who seizes his chance and rests his head on Otabek's chest, throwing one leg over him. Clawdia growls disapprovingly, stretching her spine and pawing at Otabek's chest. Otabek tenses, looking down as the cat makes its way on him. 

"Don't worry," Yuri chuckles, "She likes you." 

"I'm not so sure," Otabek says, "She's been glaring at me all morning." 

"She glares at everyone," Yuri confesses, already tired of the small talk. He grabs Otabek's jaw and turns his chin forcefully his way, surging to kiss him full on the lips. Yuri was tired last night, confused with seeing Mila and everything else that followed, so he wasn't completely in the mood to enjoy the almost two hundred pounds of Kazakh meat he had. But now he was. 

Yuri kisses Otabek fiercely, hand splayed on the tendons of his neck. He smells good, as he always does, but now it's coupled with a scent that Yuri proudly identifies as his own, the smell of his shampoo and shower gel. Otabek turns his body in Yuri's direction, Clawdia meowing in reproach and moving away. He cups the back of Yuri's head and brings him closer, nipping at his bottom lip playfully before Yuri makes this strangled moan in the back of his throat that has Otabek looking up at him with dark eyes. 

"Yura," he murmurs, somehow breathlessly, plunging his tongue into Yuri's mouth. Yuri hums into the kiss, gladly twining his tongue with Otabek's and shivering when it elicits a heat wave through his body. "Yura, we should stop," Otabek says, all too soon, but doesn't pull away, instead folding his hand on the hollow of Yuri's knee to keep it locked in place on his waist. 

"We really shouldn't," Yuri murmurs, not really knowing if he's making sense. The room has become so unbearably hot all of a sudden. 

"Your grandfather-" 

Yuri cuts him off, pecking at his lips and sliding his hand down his neck to pull at his collar. "Ugh, please don't mention my grandfather-" 

"-is in the other room," Otabek finishes stubbornly. They pull apart, not completely, just pulling their mouths away to stare each other in the eye. "I'm sorry," Otabek grimaces. He does look the part. 

Yuri huffs. "Whatever. You wouldn't probably get it up either way. Not knowing my _grandfather_ was in the next room praying you wouldn't deflower me or something. You know, I'm far from a virgin." 

Otabek looks dissatisfied at best when Yuri tells him that. Not that he'd shown extreme jealousy at the thought of Yuri's past lovers – not in the way Yuri had at his – but Yuri himself agrees that's not a delightful key to keep pressing to your new _thing, whatever they were_. He knows it and that's why he'd said it. 

"I know that," Otabek says, "but don't push me." 

"Okay," Yuri dismisses him, leaning for another kiss that Otabek corresponds immediately to, burying his hand on Yuri's hair. It must be tough. Otabek looks to be the guy that is always fighting between instinct and reason. 

"Yura," he whines, "I told you, please, don't push me." 

"I'm not pushing you," Yuri smirks, "I'm just kissing you. You are the one with a hand on my ass." 

Otabek pulls his hand away guiltily, looking down at his hand as though he can't believe it was his own. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't realize-" 

"Shh, it's fine," Yuri hushes him with a finger to his lips. Otabek finally nods and they fall back to an easy chatter. Otabek's phone keeps ringing though. 

"I'm sorry, I have to get this," he excuses himself. Yuri groans, having grown comfortable in their position. Otabek kisses his cheek and gets up from the bed, moving to the porch where he speaks on his phone for a while. 

Clawdia jumps back on the bed and Yuri pulls her closer. Otabek returns with his stoic face on. "Mother," he says to Yuri's questioning look. 

"Already?" Yuri clicks his tongue. Not that Yuri knew much about mothers but the woman seemed to be insufferable. 

Otabek shrugs. "She likes to keep active. I mean, up to date with my life." 

Yuri hums, scratching at the back of Clawdia's ears. She lays her head on his stomach, glaring at Otabek. Yuri looks up when the snap goes off to see Otabek holding up his phone in his direction. "Sorry," he says, a pleased grin on his face that condemns his true feelings, "You looked cute," he shows the picture to Yuri. It's just him petting his cat, his hair in a disarray thank to Otabek's fingers. 

"Will you post it?" Yuri asks. 

Otabek frowns, "No. Oh, I mean, I can send you if you want." 

That's not what Yuri had meant. He'd meant Otabek posting his picture to his own account. Talk about possessiveness. Yuri agrees if only because he's embarrassed to explain his real reasons.

>   
>  **@yuri-plisetsky:** Guys, say hello to Clawdia! #backinmoscow #cats  
> 

-

####  **@yuris-angels**

#### : Don't freak out now but Yuri Plisetsky is back in his hometown in Moscow. Guess who else is in the city? ;) ;) ;)

 _ **@yuripuresexy** : omgggg, guys plz, I'm dying here!!! Are they together?? plzzz someone say something!!_

_**@100_yuriangel** : looks like it_

_**@prince-yurotchka** : Just saying... but don't you guys think it's weird? Otabek doesn't post much on social media and now he does and he is in Moscow and so is Yuri!! Can't someone dig for more info? **@fairyuri @AngelLucifer [...]**_

It isn't until Yuri's already done it that he spares a thought to the repercussions. "What is it?" Otabek asks, chin propped on Yuri's shoulder as he tries to peek at the screen of his phone. 

Yuri smiles. "My crazy fans have picked the puzzle pieces I left them. So fucking smart." 

Otabek frowns. They are at the street, leaning against Otabek's bike, who is already dressed to leave. Nikolai is on the porch, watching them with a gaze that had turned very preoccupied when they'd started making out quite heavily. It had taken a very loud clearing of his throat to get the both of them apart. "Puzzle?" Otabek asks, sitting on the motorcycle's seat and bringing Yuri back between his legs. 

Yuri hums, reclining his head on Otabek's shoulder, Otabek's hands resting on his belly from behind. "Never mind," Yuri scrolls down on his phone to lose the post out of sight. He pockets his phone and turns inside Otabek's embrace. "When you get there-" he says. 

"I'll let you know," Otabek completes, smiling against his swollen lips. 

"Hn, you better," Yuri groans, wrapping both arms firmly around Otabek's head to pull him down to his lips. They kiss some more, open-mouthed and Yuri swears he's never, ever getting tired of kissing Otabek. They are interrupted, not by his grandfather now, but by a strange yelp. It's Varya, leaving her house to take trash out to find them at the sidewalk in that position. 

"Varya, hey," Yuri says. He figures he's never going to be ashamed of kissing that handsome of a man on his doorstep. 

Varya visibly does her best to swallow her embarrassment, cheeks a bit flushed. "Oh, hello, Yuri, Otabek. Leaving already? But so soon?" She uncaps her garbage bin and throws her trash inside. 

Otabek grimaces. "Yes. I wish I'd have stayed longer too," he says that while looking at Yuri. 

"Well, you should visit again. I mean, whenever you can, you must be busy. But we've loved having you in the neighborhood," Varya says. Yuri tucks some of his hair behind his ear, looking at Otabek expectantly. 

"Thank you. I'll try," Otabek smiles diplomatically at Varya, who nods and greets Nikolai distantly before heading back to her house. 

"Is she still watching?" Yuri asks, his back to their side of the street. Otabek glances over Yuri's shoulder. 

"Yes, by her window," he says amusedly. 

"Damn," Yuri murmurs, "do you think we could give her a proper show?" He pulls Otabek's face closer to his neck, which he'd spent all afternoon smattering with lazy kisses. 

Otabek kisses at his throat, hands grasping at Yuri's hips. "Maybe we could but for your grandfather's sanity I think we should stop here." 

"Yes," Yuri gasps. "Even more so when you're one second away from squeezing my ass in front of him." 

"Shit," Otabek pulls his hands back again. He seems to do it without noticing, which Yuri has found to be very good to tease him for. "I'll wait for you, okay?" 

Yuri nods. "I won't take long here either." 

"Don't shorten your visit because of me, Yura." 

"I'm not. I usually only stay a week. Grandpa knows it." 

Otabek shrugs, reaching for his helmet. Yuri takes it from his hands and clasps it around his head. "Drive safely, will you?" He says, heart pulling at already having to say goodbye. Is this how this is going to be all the damn time now? 

"I will," Otabek gets up to give him a last, lingering kiss. "Thank your grandfather for me," he whispers against Yuri's lips. 

"You've already done it yourself. Plenty." 

"It never hurts to repeat it," Otabek grins as though he's said the smartest joke ever. He throws one leg over his bike and gets the engine running. He turns his head to Yuri suddenly. "Can I kiss you one last time?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dying of embarrassment right now. I didn't proof read any of this and might do it some day when I'm done hiding in a shell. Enjoy!

Yuri hardly knows how he manages to spend the rest of the week with his grandfather. Not that there was anything wrong with him, but it just irked him to know Otabek was close – closer than before - in ways he couldn't reach. Nikolai now watches him with that perpetual air of amusement, grinning whenever Yuri tosses his phone aside in rage when Otabek takes too long to answer. In his defence Otabek does seem busier than usual, he'd entered an inspirational stage that meant he spent more than twelve hours a day locked inside a studio. 

A couple more emails of importance find their way towards Yuri's mailbox, where he lets them steam for a while until Yakov is pestering him to take a look at. He'd received a proposal from L'Oréal Paris, and snickers down at the screen when he sees it. Mila used to tease him nonstop with it because of his hair. Yuri tells Yakov to study the proposal and answer him whenever he could. Lilia emails him too, wanting to know when he'd be back in St Petersburg for some menial meeting. 

He spends the rest of the week accompanying his grandfather to several tasks. The temperature raises a little bit more and the snow starts receding, which is great because Yuri's back has started to hurt from so much shovelling. 

The last day seems to be the worst of all of them. Yuri has always had a feeling that things take longer to happen the closer they get and now he's sure he was right all along. He barely sleeps during the night and the day after he wakes before his grandfather to make coffee. 

Nikolai's eyebrows raise when stepping into the kitchen to find his grandson already eating breakfast. "My, what has gotten into your head, boy?" 

Yuri finishes munching. "My flight is early." It really is, but Yuri is impatient and they both know it. 

Nikolai smirks, and sits beside him with a bottle of milk. "Well, safe trip." 

"Grandpa," Yuri lowers his toast. He doesn't want to come across as being happy for leaving. It's painful that he can't have the two people whose company he enjoys together at the same time, but it's just how it is. Wanting to spend more time with Otabek doesn't diminish how he feels for his grandfather, "You must know-" 

Nikolai nods, and something in his eyes transmits to Yuri that he understands. They eat in silence after that, and Yuri sets his baggage aside while they wait for his cab. "I'll let you know once I get there," Yuri says, sat on the sofa and wrapping his scarf around his neck, "Through Skype, you know how to get the call, right?" 

Nikolai nods. Clawdia comes to rest beside Yuri's feet and there is this tense silence hanging around them. Every time Yuri is set to depart it's like this. Thankfully, Varya comes to say goodbye and her quick-fire chatter fills the silence. "Sorry Yulia couldn't come. She's in school. You should stop by again soon, Yuri, but of course, with your busy schedule it must not be easy. And you should bring Otabek too, such a lovely young man, very lucky, both of you. Oh, is that the taxi?" 

In fact, Yuri's ride had already arrived. Yuri gets up to take his things outside and turns to Nikolai while the driver loads his baggage. "I'll miss you, grandpa," Yuri says. Nikolai gives a small smile and retributes his hug. 

"You too, Yuratchka. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." 

Yuri nods and says goodbye to Varya before hesitantly taking his place on the backseat. He can't describe what it is that he feels when the car rolls away, but it's not sadness and it's not happiness either. 

 

\- 

 

 _Where you at?_

Yuri looks down at his phone screen while waiting for his baggage to appear on the carousel. His phone had pinged with several messages once he'd gained signal, including Yakov and Victor. And Otabek. 

_baggage claim_ , he answers, staring longingly at Otabek's profile picture. 

_Okay_

_you at the studio?_ Yuri types, but catches the sight of leopard print out of the corner of his eye and goes to retrieve his baggage. A young man spots him and is kind enough to retrieve it for him, probably unaware that Yuri's lean muscles could hold twice his weight. He winks at Yuri when handing it to him. 

"Um, thanks," Yuri mumbles with a frown. 

_Not exactly_ , is Otabek's answer. 

Yuri furrows his brows, but moves along to the domestic disembark gate. 

_Are you wearing a white scarf?_

Yuri halts, a woman coming after him bumping into his shoulder. He lifts his eyes and takes a look around the lobby. There are two men holding out name plates and a middle-aged couple, a three-year old girl sipping from a straw next to her father, waiting for the woman who'd bumped into Yuri and that heads straight to them. Her body shields Yuri's vision of Otabek for a moment. 

He remains in place, they both do, even though their eyes had already met. Otabek smirks, and Yuri smirks back. Yuri takes in a breath and pockets his phone, willing his heartbeat to slow down when he tightens his hold on the handle and moves forward. Slowly. 

"Mr Plisetsky?" Otabek asks, all mocking seriousness. Yuri swats at his chest, balancing on his tiptoes to tilt his chin up. Otabek grins and leans down to kiss him, both hands securing Yuri's waist. It's slow and sensual, the kind of warm kiss that fits inside a movie. Yuri cards his finger through Otabek's undercut, relishing on the shiver it elicits. "Good surprise?" Otabek asks when they break apart. 

Yuri hums thoughtfully. "Maybe." 

"Oh yeah?" Otabek lifts one eyebrow, drawing Yuri closer by the waist. "Just maybe?" 

Yuri smirks, stealing another kiss. "Maybe good, maybe very good." 

Otabek chuckles, his breath warm on Yuri's lips. "Should we get going then?" 

"I'm hardly stalling," Yuri twines his arms around his neck, bringing him down to steal more kisses. 

"Right," Otabek murmurs amusedly but responds to each of Yuri's kisses with the same fervor. Then they finally stop. Yuri steps away for Otabek to grab the handle of his baggage, rolling his eyes at the gesture. In the background, Yuri spots the man who'd picked his baggage up staring at them. Yuri waves back at him playfully, smiling when Otabek settles a hand on his hipbone to guide them to the doors. 

"We're headed to mine, right?" Yuri asks. 

Otabek glances at him, ignoring the line of cabs awaiting outside and the tourists lostly strolling up and down with huge backpacks. "Yes," Otabek leads them towards the parking lot. The sound of Yuri's stroller bag is loud against the concrete. "How was Nikolai?" 

"Fine. He's used to it," Yuri takes a deep breath, "He shouldn't but he is. Varya still takes care of him and he's thinking about getting another cat." They stop in front of a conversible, and Yuri frowns, turning his head around after Otabek's motorcycle. "Didn't you-" 

"Victor lent me his car," Otabek dangles the keys demonstratively and the car beeps in response when he unlocks it. 

Yuri snorts. "One of his cars, you mean. At least it's not the flashy red ferrari." 

Otabek grins, and loads Yuri's baggage in the trunk. It's difficult to sit beside Otabek while holding himself back not to lunge at him but Yuri does his best. "Where you staying at tonight?" He finally asks. Otabek glances at him and smirks. 

"Probably still at Victor's." 

Yuri twists his nose. "What the fuck? You were actually all this time in Victor's house?" 

Otabek shrugs, "He offered it. And I couldn't say no, I mean, it's close to the studio-" 

"Mine's closer," Yuri cuts in. "You promised, remember?" 

Otabek smirks. "I didn't forget." 

"Well, you're more than invited to move your ass there," Yuri grumbles, "I can't believe you stayed with Victor and Katsudon during all this time." 

"It's a big house," Otabek responds, taking a left turn. 

"Doesn't matter. It's Victor's fucking house. Did you listen to them going at it through the walls? I'm just saying, I have a feeling they're loud." 

Otabek blushes but his silence is answer enough. Yuri bursts into laughter. The only reason he doesn't tease Otabek for longer is because they finally arrive at his building. Yuri still snickers while exiting the car, probably slamming the door too loudly but then remembering he doesn't care because it's Victor's. Otabek takes his baggage from the trunk without saying a word and takes Yuri's hand to lead him to the elevators. 

Yuri's doorman is doing crosswords against the wall, but nods at them in passing. Yuri leans against Otabek while waiting for the elevator. "I can't believe you heard them fucking." 

"I didn't-" Otabek shifts his weight, "Not all the time. I mean, my room is far from theirs." 

"My poor baby," Yuri coos amusedly, cupping Otabek's cheeks and bringing his face down closer to his own, "Trapped inside that fucking horror movie house listening to two old men having loud sex," Otabek pouts at Yuri's words, but it seems he's just going along with it. "Don't worry, you'll stay here with me now. And we will be the ones having loud sex. I'm gonna take such good care of you, Beka," Yuri whispers the last part sensually and watches as Otabek's eyes turn darker, ducking sharply to kiss him. 

The elevator arrives at their floor, thankfully empty. Yuri pushes Otabek inside and doesn't even wait for the doors to be completely closed to kiss him. Otabek takes in a sharp breath, pulling Yuri close and tight against him, his back to the wall as they continue to kiss. Yuri moans softly, twining his tongue around Otabek's and _sucking_. He feels Otabek shivering, and the way he grabs Yuri by the hips all the more tightly is enough to indicate that he's beginning to lose his mind. Perfect. 

"Okay," Yuri says, pulling back only enough to have their lips disconnecting. "This is how this is going to be," he smirks, "we're gonna go in and I'll take you to my room. I'll shower to take off this dirty airport smell and then I'll go find you. Okay?" He takes a step back when the elevator's doors open, "We won't be needing clothes so you can send someone to bring yours from Victor's later." 

Otabek says nothing, simply watches Yuri with a gaping mouth as he chuckles and steps out. "Beka?" He calls, holding the door open with a cock of his hip. "Are you coming in or not?" 

Otabek hastens to get out of the elevator and Yuri laughs. 

He has a hard time fitting his key in the lock with the way Otabek hovers behind him, spanning broad hands down the sides of Yuri's thighs and breathing heavily against his ear. "Oh, Yura, god, Yura," he says, nuzzling into the side of Yuri's neck. 

"God, you're eager," Yuri hisses, finally managing to unlock the door. Otabek barrels them in, turning Yuri on his arms to give him a bruising kiss. Yuri moans, feeling the hot current of arousal making its familiar descent down between his legs. Otabek's kisses engulf him, so much that it makes him feel as if he's gonna suffocate or burst. He grabs onto the lapels of Otabek's jacket, humming in uneven breaths when Otabek walks him in, feeling the bump of some furniture prodding at the base of his spine where Otabek seems to want him to sit on. 

It's the bathroom sink, and Yuri doesn't fucking know how they're in his bathroom already, he'd had his eyes shut since Otabek had shoved him in and now Yuri hops on it helplessly. "Jesus," he wheezes, Otabek's greedy mouth lapping at his throat. Yuri whines, spreading his legs to give Otabek more room and banging the back of his head against the mirror when Otabek gives a particular _hard_ bite. "Shit!" 

"Sorry," Otabek scurries to say, sending a hand up to massage the crown of Yuri's head, "Can I leave marks? Yura, can I please-" 

"You already did, asshole," Yuri hisses, his jeans becoming very uncomfortable with the prominent bulge growing between his legs. He arches his back and gives a strangled moan when Otabek's hands travel up inside his shirt, thumbs rubbing at his nipples insistently. 

Yuri has a hard time breathing already. Fine, he hadn't been waiting for some fairytale. But this was going faster than he'd imagined. Great, because it felt so _good_. "I need- Beka, come on," he whines. Otabek makes a noise in disinterest, giving an open-mouthed suck to the curve of Yuri's neck. He seems to be humping the counter Yuri's at. "Beka, shower," Yuri gasps out. 

Otabek expertly rolls the hems of Yuri's shirt up, tugging until Yuri raises his arms to help himself out of it. Otabek seems unfocused, his eyes taking in the span of Yuri's upper body way too fast, breathing harshly to the point Yuri thinks he must be asthmatic or something. "Are you all right?" 

"Yura, Yura, you're perfect," he says, eyeing the tent in Yuri's pants with hungry interest. "Just as I imagined, but better, way better, Yura, please, let me have you, please." 

Yuri nods repeatedly, "I will. Beka, you can have everything," he tugs at his own nipples, relishing in the feeling that it elicits in his body and Otabek's response to it, shoulders going tense and giving a harsh suck of air. "But I'll shower first," Otabek groans, "you can watch me," Yuri winks, "you can watch all you want." 

"Watching isn't enough, Yura," Otabek pleads, "I've watched all this time. I need more." 

Yuri moans, "You will have more," Yuri slides down the counter, lifting an eyebrow up when Otabek immediately takes him by the hips possessively. "In time." 

"You're hard," Otabek states. 

Yuri quirks his lips, looking pointedly down. "So are you." 

"Can I do you in the shower then?" 

Yuri laughs, shoving Otabek's hands away. He gives Otabek his back, unzipping his jeans and sliding the down demurely, watching Otabek over his shoulder all the time. Otabek's so physical in his arousal, which is strange because Otabek isn't much physical in anything. He barely even speaks. But gods, but if Yuri is giving him a strip tease show his nostrils flare like he is a bull ready to set off. 

Yuri smirks and pulls his jeans all the way down along with his underwear. Otabek growls in response, eyes taking in the expanse of Yuri's milky white skin displayed just for him, the small taper of his waist and the dimples on his back, the smooth curve of his backside and the round cheeks that Yuri's always been so complimented on. Otabek is holding onto the counter, knuckles white with the strength he puts in to hold himself back from grabbing his Yuri and just having his way with him. 

"Good boy," Yuri praises lowly, stepping out of the pool his pants made around his feet. He steps into the shower and turns the faucet on, watching Otabek through the glass doors, the tiny drops of water staining the view. 

Otabek comes to take a set on the toilet lid, legs splayed wide open. His erection must make him uncomfortable, but he only has eyes for Yuri and Yuri's naked body through the glass. 

"Wet or dry?" Yuri asks, and Otabek frowns heavily, eyes scurrying to Yuri's proud length and the small hole hiding below his balls. Yuri laughs, "Hair, Beka. Should I wash my hair? You prefer it wet or dry?" 

Otabek gulps and takes a while to answer. When he does his voice comes out hoarse. "I don't know. Which do you want?" 

Yuri shrugs, dipping his body under the water spray. "Your call. You will be pulling on it the rest of the night so you get to decide." 

Otabek takes in a sharp breath. "You're so cruel, Yuri, so, so cruel." 

Yuri snickers but before he can ask again Otabek says, "Wet." 

Yuri dips his head under the water, not breaking his eyelock with Otabek. "You like being a voyeur, don't you?" He asks under his breath, but he knows Otabek can hear him. His attention is so fixed on Yuri that if a bomb was about to blow off in the building Otabek wouldn't know it. Otabek hisses. "I know you do, you have my magazines. You like my body, don't you?" 

"Ah, Yura," Otabek shakes his head, settling both hands on the glass doors as if he can touch Yuri's body through it. "You know I do, please." 

"Tell me about it, Beka," Yuri grabs the soap bar, slathering it on his skin. 

Otabek gulps, gaze locked on the incessant rivulets of water cascading down Yuri's body. "There's nothing to say. You're just beautiful. Beautiful, Yura, please, let me-" 

"Almost there," Yuri cuts in. "Sorry. Didn't want to wait either. But I couldn't have you fucking a dirty hole, could I?" He slides one hand between his thighs, cleaning himself there. Otabek's brain seems to have stopped working, he's only watching Yuri's hand with bated breath. "Do you know how many fingers I can take, Beka?" 

Otabek gnaws at his bottom lip until it's angry red. Yuri rinses shampoo out of his hair, the bathroom slowly filling with the steam from the water and the diluted scent of Yuri's bath lotion. "I can take as many as you want," Yuri breathes out. His own erection throbs insistently and Yuri finishes rinsing the rest of the soap. Otabek seems to be aware that his torture is about to end, standing from his seat and shucking his sweater off carelessly, eyes not straying from Yuri. 

"And if you do it right," Yuri smirks, turning the faucet off, "I might even get as wet as though I was in heat." 

Otabek growls loudly, and Yuri yelps when he grabs him around the waist to throw over his shoulder. "Beka!" He shrieks, but doesn't manage to stifle his own laughter. Otabek seems to be a fast learner because he goes straight to Yuri's bedroom without vacillating. Yuri groans when he's thrown on his back mercilessly on his own mattress. Otabek comes to blanket his body, going straight for Yuri's lips. 

Their kiss is different now, absolutely charged with sexual intent, the angle ever-changing to accommodate Otabek's swirling tongue and the way he sloppily makes sure to roam every crevice of Yuri's mouth. They break apart with a wet smack and Otabek goes to lick and nip at the mark he'd left on Yuri's neck earlier. "Give me more, Beka. I want people to know- I want them to know you did it." 

Otabek grunts in response, hands moving to cup both of Yuri's asscheeks and _squeeze_. Yuri moans out loud, sincerely not giving a fuck if anyone listens to them when he struggles to move his hand in between them to get a feel of Otabek's hard cock through his pants. Otabek moans, letting go of Yuri's neck to move down his chest, lapping at his nipples, which makes Yuri's brain rattle inside his skull, it's so _good_. Yuri was so sensitive there. He looks down at Otabek, head bent and sucking on his nipples greedily and almost has a heart attack. 

"Get- Beka, lube- Drawer," he says, curling his toes when one of Otabek's hands gives his length a good pump. 

Otabek groans in response and quickly moves to roam around in Yuri's drawer, leaving Yuri to catch his breath and try to situate himself. He barely recognizes his room, it's not any different than how he'd left it but his brain seems to have turned into a sluggish mass that only cares about Otabek's body on his and his dick in his ass. He can feel himself growing wet between the cheeks, and lowers a hand to palm his balls and feel the slick that escapes through his hole. When in heat he produced four times that. But when in heat he became so sex starved that Yuri didn't even know how his hole felt while empty. 

He only has enough time to sit up on his bed when Otabek returns. "You want a ride?" Yuri asks, pushing Otabek's chest down until he's sitting against the headboard and gods, how come Yuri didn't notice his crazy hot abs before? "Shit, do you lift or some shit?" He asks, short of breath. 

"Boxing," Otabek says before Yuri is crashing down on him, seemingly not getting enough of his plump, kiss swollen lips. Otabek traces the contours of Yuri's body with lazy fingertips, sending a shudder up his body that has Yuri throwing his head back into the kiss and hastening to unbutton Otabek's pants. 

Yuri hears the tell-tale sound of his lube being uncapped and smiles into the kiss, nipping at Otabek's bottom lip and unzipping his pants. Otabek circles a cold, slick finger around his rim that has Yuri pausing all of his ministrations. "All right? Yura, please-" 

"Gods, you want to shove it in so bad, don't you?" Yuri snickers, "Yes, fuck, yes, let me just," Yuri opens his asscheeks and even though he's straddling Otabek, who doesn't get a nice view of his spread hole, the Kazakh sucks in a breath before introducing the tip of his finger into Yuri's slick walls. 

Yuri groans, "You can put it all the way, you know, I'm not made of- Oh! Fuck," Yuri curses. He had meant to tease Otabek but the man had really shoved his finger all the way in, scissoring and feeling around Yuri's hole with greedy abandon. "Ah, so you like it rough, don't you? Good. We can try spanking later." 

Otabek curses in low Arabic, eyes almost rolling inside his head. "You have such a dirty mouth, Yura." 

"I fucking do," Yuri preens, "Not my fault though. I tell it like it is. Come on, show me that fat cock of yours. I'll fucking lick it dry before this day ends." 

Otabek seems to be on the verge of sobbing. "Where do you come up with such things to say?" he pushes another finger into Yuri, peppering kisses on the curve of his shoulder while Yuri lets go of his asscheeks to finish helping Otabek out of his pants. His dick is so hard already that his underwear already sports a wet spot when Yuri slides his pants down to his thighs. When Yuri takes the waistband and pulls it down his eyes positively bulge out of its sockets. "Oh fuck!" 

Otabek doesn't pause scissoring his fingers, but does look down at himself self-consciously. "Oh, yeah, that, I'm circumcised." 

Yuri shakes his head in slow motion, his heartbeat going all the time faster while looking down at Otabek's erect, red, _huge_ cock. "That's not- You're hung as fuck." 

Otabek blushes, or at least he has been blushing all along, his forehead shining with sweat. Yuri mustn't look much different. He shrugs it off and looks intently down at Yuri's cock. "You're not bad yourself," it's clear he's only saying it to diverge the topic or some shit. How come is he embarrassed for having that sizable cock? 

"Don't lie. I'm an omega-" Yuri mumbles, frowning half-way and forgetting what he was about to say because Otabek is fingering him _real_ good now, shoving all the way up to his knuckles, all three of them, in and out in a stabbing motion that is far from gentle but has Yuri losing count of time and struggling for his next breath. Of course he had to have a gigantic cock and still be this fucking good at everything, not alone fixing heaters or just being a fucking menace to Yuri's sole existence. Yuri was going to have to see a doctor after this because he wanted Otabek to fuck him so bad and so many times now he was afraid it _couldn't be healthy_. 

Yuri takes Otabek's cock in both hands, the member thick and oozing precome at the tip. The underside has a thick vein that Yuri barely knows but already loves to death, following it with his fingers and feeling his mouth salivating at the thought of tracing it with his tongue. Gods, he was going to suck Otabek off everyday. This dick was a blessing, hot and heavy in Yuri's hands. Yuri was going to sit on it until it fucking fit even if it took him hours. 

Otabek seems to have found what he was looking for with a fervor, fingers stabbing at Yuri's prostate until he was crying out, balls drawing tight and slick sliding past Otabek's fingers and down his wrist. 

"Stop, stop! Beka, stop," Yuri squeezes the base of Otabek's dick, _hard_. Otabek immediately pulls his fingers out, blinking away the fog that seems to have taken over his eyes. 

"Sorry, sorry, Yura, I-" 

"I was gonna come," Yuri breathes, feeling a drop of sweat slide down his temple. He takes in a short breath before swatting at Otabek's shoulder. "Never mind. Come on, put it in already. Weren't you in a hurry before? Why is taking so long now?" 

"Sorry," Otabek is still saying, but his lips quirk up and when he adjusts himself better beneath Yuri he releases this very contented sigh. "Just, you're amazing." 

"We haven't even gotten to the amazing part yet," Yuri tsks, but greedily takes Otabek's cock and lines it with his hole. "Hold your horses, big boy," he says, and then chuckles darkly, "Horses." 

Otabek fails to see the humor, probably because he doesn't see his own dick as the eighth wonder of the world it was to Yuri. But the corner of his lips flatten ever so softly when Yuri begins his descent, studying Otabek's face and the way it shifts when the engorged cockhead parts Yuri's cheeks. It feels big, _really_ big, bigger than any Yuri had taken before and gods, was it going to be _hard_ to have any another one after this. Yuri hoped it wouldn't ever come to it. 

Otabek secures Yuri by the waist, his touch soft and barely there, eyes trying to decide between focusing at the place where they were connected or shutting in pleasure. Yuri gasps out, trying not to make it obvious that this wasn't as easy as he'd imagined it would. But only thinking about how Otabek's _knot_ would feel, bigger than anything else, had Yuri spearing himself down a little bit farther on it. 

Otabek groans, the sound sending goosebumps over Yuri's sweaty skin. He feels so sensitive, so pretty, throwing his head back and humming contentedly when Otabek kisses his sternum reverently. He is muttering something under his breath too, some sort of praise as to how well Yuri was taking his cock. 

Yuri bites his bottom lip, rubbing his hands up and down Otabek's shoulders, trying to get more balance and more impulse on his knees to lift up and then letting himself drop again, enveloping one more inch. Otabek curses up at the ceiling, chin propped on Yuri's stomach and eyes shut, a knit working itself between his eyebrows whenever Yuri shifts on his cock. 

Yuri squeezes around him tentatively, just to get him hissing. It backfires because Otabek moans out loud and bucks involuntarily, his cock seeking the tight, wet heat of Yuri's walls. Yuri whimpers, a tad surprised, but finds support on Otabek's shoulders and reassurance when Otabek kisses the head of his own, red cock apologetically. 

Nuzzling into the space behind Otabek's ear, Yuri takes in a good breath and rearranges himself. Otabek grunts beneath him, wrapping a hand around Yuri's cock and giving a few pumps. Yuri hums and lets the waves of pleasure guide him all the way down. When the back of his thighs finally meet Otabek's hips Yuri can barely believe he'd made it. 

"Fucking gods, yes," he hisses. He still feels some of the burn of it, but it feels like a sweet reward, stinging at the end of his spine. "You all right?" Yuri asks, because Otabek seems like he isn't lucid, teeth gritted and breathing harsh, eyes kept firmly shut no matter how much Yuri wanted to see them. 

"Not sure," Otabek shakes his head. "Can I move?" 

Yuri holds up one hand even though Otabek can't see it through his eyelids. "One second," he says, and tries to get used to the huge dick up his ass. It still has him exhilarated. He blinks at the sensation, sliding a hand up his torso to pinch his own nipples. He lets out a gasp that has Otabek grunting in response, giving a sharp buck that almost dislodges Yuri off his lap. "I said one second damnit," Yuri interjects, moving his hair aside hurriedly. 

"Sorry, Yura, sorry, it's just-" 

"Tight, isn't it?" Yuri completes, rolling his hips forward and having Otabek crying out. The movement sends a pleasant sensation up Yuri's own spine and he has to pause and gather his thoughts for a moment. "Tell me how I feel around your cock, Beka. Tell me. Do I feel good? Warm? How warm?" 

Otabek falters, "So warm, Yura. So good." 

"Yes?" Yuri preens, rolling his hips back and forth now. "Like this?" 

Otabek lets out a strangled gasp, grabbing firmly onto Yuri's hips, helping him along with his movements. 

Yuri builds some pace, finding purchase on Otabek's shoulders until he deems himself good enough. The smooth drag has his whole body tingling, feeling his own slick scurry down past Otabek's cock and smearing the inside of his thighs. He looks down at it before forcing himself up and then down again, the hammering of Otabek's cockhead inside him making his toes curl and his balls draw warningly. 

"I will lick you after," Otabek is saying in between grunts. Yuri must pull a face because Otabek slides his hands down to Yuri's thighs and rubs there at some of the slick mixed with his precome demonstratively. "I'll lick you clean. Will you let me, please, Yura?" His eyes are open now, and he looks so feverish, so open that Yuri wants to do something crazy like hug him and never let go. 

"I told you already, you can do whatever the fuck you want," Yuri gasps out, punctuating with a sharp downwards thrust that has Otabek biting his bottom lip and holding on to him. Yuri works himself up and down a little bit more, the slick sound of their skin meeting resounding around the room, mixing with Otabek's low grunts and Yuri's own _'uh, uh'_ s that he tries his best to stop but isn't able to. 

He's almost there, just a couple more thrusts and maybe a helping hand on his dick... Yuri clings to Otabek's neck, whose head is bent and staring intently at Yuri's ass as it bounces on his lap, his dick disappearing in and out of sight. How had they taken so long to do this? Right, because Otabek wanted it to be special and because Yuri had the wonderful idea of inviting him for a visit to his grandfather, who was the biggest cockblock in this world. Nothing can be more special than this. Nothing. 

Yuri works a hand around himself, pumping his length along with every drop of his hips. Otabek helps him out, his hand slicker from where he'd palmed at the inside of Yuri's thighs and the residue of lube. 

Yuri begins to increase his speed even though his knees feel like they won't hold him up for much longer. He should've let Otabek top, he didn't know he had such stamina and that it would take this long to sit fully on his cock. 

Otabek nips at Yuri's throat, handing working alongside his own on his length and bucking helpfully up to meet Yuri's downwards thrusts. Yuri feels his eyelids fluttering already, wrapping his arms around Otabek and bringing him closer. They're both so sweaty, so wet and Otabek's cock feels so fucking good that when the cockhead finds Yuri's prostate again Yuri can feel himself coming. 

He shoots long, white stripes up Otabek's chest, body going completely taut. He drops on Otabek's lap and is thankful when Otabek holds him up. He feels in heaven, this gentle uncurling of something very nice inside of him, like a wave that has come and washed everything away from him until all that was left was _good, very good_ , good like Otabek's cock still hard inside of him. Good like Otabek's crooked smirks, like his warm embraces and the honeyed scent of him that seemed to hang out of his every pore. 

Yuri hopes he hadn't babbled. Some of his exes said he did that, but when he blinks his eyes open he is exactly where he was, shivering on Otabek's lap, whose cock is still firmly planted inside of him. Had he blacked out? Shit, that was so embarrassing. 

"You didn't. Not for too long, at least," Otabek answers amusedly. 

He had said that out loud. Fuck. Yuri whines, oversensitized. 

"Can I move?" Otabek asks unhelpfully. 

"Argh," Yuri shifts, unwrapping his arms from around him and pulling him back on the bed with him. "Don't you want to top for a little bit?" He asks lowly and Otabek silently complies, more than content to lodge himself between Yuri's spread legs and look down at him when he gives the first, shallow thrust. Yuri groans. 

"Too much?" Otabek asks, but keeps going at the same pace. 

"Yeah but no-" Yuri hisses, smashing his eyes shut and holding onto Otabek's biceps. "Just, argh, I don't know, just come already." 

"I'm almost- almost there, Yura," Otabek reassures, looking to be saying the truth with the way his face acquires this earnest look, brows furrowing and mouth hanging open. Yuri wants to lick into his mouth, wants to kiss him until he doesn't feel like kissing him anymore which must be a long time; but doesn't get to do any of that because his bones seem to have turned into lead. 

"There? Are you there? Gods, do you last forever?" Yuri grumbles and Otabek gives a soft whine as an answer, securing one of his legs open before driving home way more forcefully. Yuri bobs with every thrust, holding onto the headboard and feeling his dick start to become interested again. 

Finally, Otabek comes, spurting hot, thick, copious come up Yuri's ass. He barely makes a sound when he climaxes, just this tiny grunt that seems to come from his soul before it dissolves into harsh breathing, his body rigid over Yuri's. Yuri stores it all away in his brain because he's just had hot, steamy, amazing sex with Otabek fucking Altin and it may be the best day of his entire existence.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted a new chapter for part 3 recently, some of you might have seen it, but I made a tumblr for this AU. It's [here](https://notyourusualfairytale-au.tumblr.com/)! You can check it out if you want to ask me more stuff about the story and have a general idea of anything else I feel like adding, such as asthetics and things I don't know how to work out around AO3.

True to his word, Otabek does lick Yuri clean. It's messy, but Yuri _loves_ it, on his back on the mattress, head on his pillow, knees bent and pushed up to his chest while Otabek's head bobs between his legs, warm tongue lapping at Yuri's inner thighs. It goes without saying that he comes again. Afterwards, they huddle up in Yuri's shower to wash off. 

Otabek is still handsy, scrubbing at Yuri's back and using every opportunity to span his hands down his wet skin. "Oh my god," Yuri chuckles, batting Otabek's hand away when it runs up his thigh and squeezes his asscheek, "you're like, a fucking pervert or something." 

"Not my fault," Otabek kisses him, and the water falling on them makes it ten times wetter. "You're like, really beautiful." 

Yuri clicks his tongue. "You're such a sap." 

They don't leave the bed. There doesn't seem to be anything happening outside of it that could be more interesting than the new, physical proximity they'd acquired. Otabek's olive skin is perfect, and Yuri tries to kiss the whole expanse of it, dragging gasps and groans out of Otabek. 

Food is a problem because Yuri's fridge is empty. They order takeout from the bistro just beside the building and wait with bated breath and noisy stomachs. "I'm no good at cooking, you know," Yuri says, punctuating with a kiss to one of Otabek's ribs. They're still naked, Yuri's duvet wrapped around them in a way that one can't move without the other somehow hindering the movement. Which is _great_. 

Otabek smiles up at the ceiling, an idle hand playing with some locks of Yuri's hair. "I had a feeling." 

Yuri lifts an eyebrow and reproachfully bites at Otabek's collarbone. Otabek hisses. "You had a feeling? What do you fucking mean?" Yuri pinches his nipple and Otabek's hips jump, a small, breathy _'oh'_ escaping his lips. 

"You mentioned your coffee was shit. Anyone who cooks knows how to make coffee," he defends himself. 

Yuri snorts. "That's absurd. I can cook but I'm no good at it. Like, I fry eggs and can make pasta if I feel like it." 

Otabek laughs, and Yuri leans down to capture his bottom lip between his teeth. "Well, what can _you_ cook then, chef?" Yuri teases. 

Otabek hums, the sound sending vibrations through Yuri's lips. "Lasagna," he says, and Yuri's heartbeat may have stuttered. "Grilled fillet, paella, kebab, pilaf, curry-" 

"Oh god, stop right there," Yuri groans, "I think I'll pass out." Otabek chuckles, and Yuri looks down at him, both arms beside his head as his hair falls around their faces. "Are you a god or something?" 

Otabek huffs, and looks up at Yuri, eyes glinting mischievously. They're so close together, Yuri can see every pore on his face and how beautiful he is, the brown specks in his irises, the contour of his lips. "It's not the first time someone's asked me that, actually," he confesses, his big toe running up and down one of Yuri's calves. 

Yuri shivers. "I wonder who-" 

The doorbell rings. Yuri grunts, falling on his side beside Otabek, who laughs. "I can go get it if you want," he offers and Yuri bats him away. 

"No need, the guy knows me," he groans, "I just have to find the mood to get up and right now it's not coming," he turns to Otabek sharply, "kiss me." 

Otabek doesn't need to be asked twice, smiling languorously and cupping the back of Yuri's neck with one broad hand to pull him closer. They kiss lazily, Yuri humming around their lips and shuddering when Otabek's other hand finds his ass and palms the part of it that the duvet doesn't cover. The doorbell rings again. 

"Fucking flying _fuck_ ," Yuri grunts, making an effort to get up. Otabek grabs him by the wrist and is swatted away. "Going!" He bellows, totally aware that he's standing completely naked with his back to Otabek. He grabs a pair of leggings and bends to put it on. Otabek hums appreciatively. 

"Nice view?" Yuri teases, looking at him over his shoulder. 

Otabek grins, "the best." 

Yuri puts Otabek's shirt on from where he'd left it. "Better now?" 

Otabek growls, lunging to grab him again and Yuri whisks away with an evil laugh, padding up to the door where the tired-looking deliver guy is parked. Yuri pays and gets the food, which smells amazing unsurprisingly, and heads back to the bedroom where he finds Otabek, only in his boxers, browsing on his phone and scratching at an eye. 

"Hey," he smirks lazily up at Yuri, and something about that sight is so domestic that makes Yuri want to claw his face away. 

"Hey, so, I'll get the plates and everything. We'll eat at the coffee table if you don't mind." 

Otabek gives Yuri's favourite crooked smile. "I don't mind." 

They sit on their heels like a couple of Japanese, food laid out in front of them. They chat some more and eat, Otabek looking down at his phone every once in a while. "Sorry, it's just," he clicks his tongue, "I talked to my manager about the JJ thing." 

Yuri's eyes widen. "Good! Are you gonna hand his ass back to him?" 

"Presumably," Otabek grins. "There's a lot of bureaucracy. But I want to go through with it." 

"You damn well should. Fucking thief," Yuri pouts. 

"There's going to be a lot of repercussion though. It's not everyday a musician sues another for stealing his work." 

Yuri shivers in excitement. "Uh, I can barely wait for it. Just imagine his crazy stupid fans mad at you. Writing indignant comments in caps locked comic sans. Imagine when you win the case. Gods, make him pay you a billion dollars, seriously. Bankrupt him, Beka. Actually, I think I'll stop talking to you if you don't." 

Otabek stares at him for a moment before laughing quietly. "You sure hate him." 

Yuri hums in agreement, licking sauce off his finger. "I do." 

Otabek watches him, eyes narrowing when Yuri licks another finger provocatively. "What?" He teases, propping his elbow on the coffee table and biting at his own thumb teasingly. "Like what you see?" 

Otabek snorts. "You can't be real, Yura." 

"Oh, I am _very_ real," he says, leaning to breathe on Beka's lips before stealing a sauce-heavy peck. He snickers in delight when Otabek shuts his eyes and licks his own lips clean off the taste. 

"Anyway," Otabek continues saying, but now staring at Yuri with heavy-lidded eyes, "It's not going to look good, being involved in those sort of problems." 

"He stole your fucking song, Beka, gods, it has look bad on him." 

"Yes, but you know how it is, innocent until proven guilty," he shrugs. "Just warning you though. It might not look good on you either." 

Yuri pauses on his chewing. Otabek doesn't seem to have found anything wrong with his words, instead blows at his fork before eating. He seems to find Yuri's silence odd though, and glances up to find him still looking at him. It suddenly, visibly, dawns on Otabek. "Oh," he flushes furiously, "I mean, because-" 

"Why would it look bad on me, Beka?" Yuri asks before he can help himself, a fluttering of something very good making itself known inside his chest. 

Otabek clears his throat awkwardly, intently staring at Yuri's carpet for a second. "Because- Yuri, you must know. What they talk about us in the media. Right? I mean, I know it's not the best moment to bring this up and I know it bothers you and steals our privacy, but we are kind of-" he trails off, watching Yuri expectantly. 

"Kind of-?" Yuri prods. 

"Kind of," Otabek scratches at his head, "Kind of- together? For them." 

Yuri's eyebrow ticks. "For them?" 

"No, like," Otabek licks his lips nervously. Yuri doesn't know if he wants to laugh or not. It seems a sensitive moment for Otabek, he seems to be struggling a lot to say what Yuri wants to hear and it is extremely cute. "For us? Aren't we?" 

Yuri doesn't say anything, just stares at him with a shit-eating grin. "Are we?" 

"I am not good with this," Otabek sighs, "I hate discussing relationships." 

"For us to discuss a relationship would entail we have one," Yuri smirks, but can't shake away the jitters that have taken residence at the bottom of his stomach. 

"We do," Otabek says, no, affirms, with creased eyebrows and everything, as though assuming they _didn't_ would be wrong. 

Yuri twines his pasta around his fork, biting his bottom lip. He can feel his cheeks heating, and looks down to avoid Otabek's eyes, suddenly very frisky about this conversation and also immeasurably happy. Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin were on a serious fucking relationship. There. Official. Yuri's fingers itched to make it facebook official. He wanted to see the whole world turning inside out just because he felt like _his_ whole world _was_ turning inside out now. And it wasn't fair. It couldn't be fair, but Yuri had a fucking boyfriend and his name was Otabek Altin, DJ supreme, all-time gentleman, bike rider, hotness incarnate and owner of the biggest dick Yuri had ever seen. 

Yuri smiles. "You fucking had me for a moment there, you know?" 

Otabek's lips quirk. "I know." 

"Urgh, you're such a little shit," Yuri abandons all pretence of still being focused on his lunch, standing up and falling on Otabek's lap at the other side of the table. Otabek laughs shortly, because Yuri kisses him, a combination of smiles and quick, teasing nips. God forbid, Yuri's never felt so happy. 

 

\- 

 

They do nothing the rest of the day, only lounge on Yuri's bed and try to watch some show or another on the television only to end up becoming distracted by making out. Otabek is still in his boxers which _yes, please_ Yuri is never letting him wear anything else, while Yuri's foregone his leggings because it becomes easier to grind against Otabek like this. 

Otabek, _Yuri's boyfriend_ , mind you, seems be really into wearing each others' clothes kink because he always gets this hazy look whenever looking at Yuri. Or maybe he doesn't and it is just the way that Yuri is making him feel that becomes transparent through his eyes. Yuri doesn't even mind, even basks on the glow of it. 

As it is, though, time flies when you're actually doing something you enjoy – preferably, your crazy hot Kazakh boyfriend. So in a fairly short time the sky begins to darken and their bellies grow empty again. There was still some of the food from lunch left, but it was cold and Yuri wasn't feeling up to heating it. 

"We could go out," Otabek offers, leaning against the counter while Yuri taps a finger to his lips in thought while eyeing the interior of his fridge. 

"Like-" Yuri turns on his heels, "Out, out?" 

Otabek laughs inwardly. "Yes, to a restaurant." 

"Oh," Yuri breathes, letting the door to the fridge smack closed. "Yes, maybe we could. But I would have to dress up." 

Otabek rakes his eyes over him, shamelessly, because right? Boyfriend. He was allowed. "I think you're fine like that," he muses. 

Yuri tsks, but goes over to wrap his arms around his neck and kiss him. He's done this all day and it's still longing for it like a middle school girl. He hated Otabek for making him feel like that but at the same time he _didn't_ because he was somehow brainwashed or spellbound. 

"Did you send someone to bring your clothes from Victor's?" Yuri parts to ask. 

Otabek's eyes are firmly set on his lips. "Not yet. I can go pick it myself." 

Yuri raises one eyebrow. "I'm not sure about that, mister. How will I know if you will come back?" 

Otabek's only response is biting his bottom lip and picking Yuri up like a damn brute. Yuri yelps, clamping his hands on Otabek's biceps as he secures him by his thighs and shoulders. "Let me go, you asshole," Yuri shouts out, but doesn't protest at all when Otabek leads him to the bedroom. 

 

\- 

 

Yuri scrolls down on his phone while waiting for Otabek. After their last bout on the sheets, Otabek had gone back to Victor's to pick his stuff and get dressed for dinner. He'd promised to make reservations somewhere but wouldn't tell Yuri where it was, only that he should wear whatever he had best. Yuri, because he isn't stupid, and because he'd had more sex than was normal and obviously wanted to have more, puts on one of his best dresses, simple make-up and high-heels. 

Otabek messages him to inform he's nearby and Yuri takes the elevator to the lobby, careful to take his own jacket in spite of knowing Otabek would provide his own if he was cold. But Yuri wasn't cold _at all_. 

The doorman does a triple-take when Yuri disembarks from the elevator. He straightens up and even nods his way. "Good evening, Mr Plisetsky." 

Yuri nods back at him amusedly, loitering until Otabek's (or rather, Victor's) car pulls up. Otabek steps out of the driver's seat, in a dark suit, hair gelled back. Yuri's doorman hastens to open the door for him – though he'd never done that before, when Yuri was in shitty clothes and even shittier hair -, and Otabek _clenches_ his jaw when his eyes land on Yuri. 

"You said to dress up," Yuri states, clicking down the steps to the sidewalk. 

Otabek breathes in sharply. "I think we should go back inside," he says, seriously eyeing the length of Yuri's legs, "forget about dinner." 

"Oh, yeah?" Yuri supports one hand on his shoulder. "You have a better dinner in mind?" 

Otabek growls, but licks his lips and pushes his hair back. "Okay, let's go." 

It's funny because Otabek can't literally take his eyes off Yuri while he drives, either staring at his face or at his legs. "Take a picture," Yuri mumbles teasingly. Otabek clears his throat and looks back ahead. "You're not so bad yourself," Yuri states the truth, glancing at the fit of Otabek's suit around his ribcage. 

Otabek eyes him amusedly. "I look like a loser next to you." 

Yuri laughs. "A loser? Are you mad? Everyone will know you _have this_." 

Otabek straightens his shoulders. "True." 

 

\- 

 

It's a classy restaurant, not the best there was, but the food was good and it was selective enough to not have many clients in a Tuesday night. The staff, even though they recognize them, Yuri isn't sure, is efficient and quietly steers them to a table at the far end of the room. 

It's been some time since Yuri last had one of these dinners – a date – with someone else, candles alight on their table and leather bound menus feeling soft under his fingertips. Yuri chooses whatever dish that won't give him bad breath later, which ends up being a fish fillet with some salad as a side dish. Otabek goes with something else that Yuri hadn't identified on the menu. 

"So," Yuri begins, softly stirring the meticulously picked wine on his glass. "Victor suggested this place to you, didn't he?" 

Otabek inclines his head. "He might have helped me." 

Yuri chuckles. They talk some more until the food arrives. 

"My sister asked me about you," Otabek says, frowning down at his food. 

"Aisha?" 

"No, Maya," Otabek chews, and differently from Yuri, waits until he's done to continue. "She messaged me earlier." 

Yuri hums. "I thought she was still in her honeymoon or something." 

Otabek shakes his head. "She's gone back to work already." 

"Well, what did you say?" 

"I said," Otabek gulps down his wine, "I said we were seeing each other. And that I liked you." 

Yuri grins at him. "How sweet." 

Otabek takes his hand over the table to kiss his knuckles. Yuri's heart might have melted, staring straight at the golden glint of Otabek's eyes under the candle lights. 

They choose dessert next, tiramisu because Yuri doesn't want anything heavier. "Oh," he speaks up, "I've received a proposal last week." 

"Really?" Otabek lifts an eyebrow, burying the side of his spoon into the soft cream of the dessert. 

Yuri hums. "Take a guess." 

Otabek watches him for a minute, face completely blank. "Was it Playboy?" 

Yuri snorts, and has to dab at his mouth to make sure he hadn't messed himself up. "Gods, _no_. You have wild dreams, Mr Altin." 

Otabek shrugs. 

"It was L'Óreal," Yuri says, and throws his hair to the side demonstratively. 

Otabek smiles. "Oh. Will you do it?" 

"I don't know," Yuri licks his spoon clean. "Still thinking about it. Do you think I should?" 

"It's your call. But I'm sure you'd be wonderful, fairy." 

Yuri huffs. "Fairy? Really? Did you read that article-" 

Otabek nods guiltily, not even waiting for Yuri to finish his sentence. 

"What should I call you them?" Yuri muses. Otabek shrugs. "You've never had a nickname?" 

"Willingly, no. But my friends gave me one. It's embarrassing." 

"Oh, now I'm dying to know." But Otabek won't tell him, which Yuri hadn't expected him to. "Hn, I think I know what it will be," he says, "Horse," he snickers, and nudges Otabek's foot under the table when his face goes beet red. 

 

\- 

 

There's only a little problem waiting for them outside of the restaurant. This sometimes happens, though never really with Yuri, except for when he'd dated that German vocalist. But apparently someone had spilled that they were eating here. Which is good. Fine. They would have to go through it someday so it might as well be as fast as possible. 

Otabek's face doesn't change, though there's a new hardness to it. He takes Yuri's hand in his and leads them out the door. There's a wave of flashes that almost blind Yuri, even if there are not that many photographers in there. 

"Yuri! Yuri! Otabek! Are you dating? How long?" 

"Yuri! Look this way!" 

"Otabek? Otabek, are you dating?" 

Yuri ducks his head and sidles up with Otabek, even though he knows the attempt to be useless. Not that pictures of them walking hand-in-hand out of a restaurant wouldn't already be making front pages come tomorrow. It seems like an eternity until they reach the car and it doesn't get better until Otabek has taken a turn and they'd stopped getting flashes all through the windshield. 

Yuri is irritated. Not with Otabek. He'd been wanting to make it public, he just wasn't expecting it to be in such an explosive way. And the flashes really are a bother when you're not posing for them. "Shit," he mumbles, wrapping his jacket tighter around himself. Otabek still hasn't said a word, which Yuri doesn't know how to interpret. "I'm sorry," he ends up saying. 

"It's not your fault." 

"It's not yours either." Otabek shrugs. "I didn't want it to be like this." 

Otabek shoots him a small grin. "No? How did you want it to be? If you were envisioning it already-" 

"Oh, shut up. I don't know, like. Maybe I'd post a photo of you naked on my Instagram. Or just make several suggestions until someone picked up on it." 

Otabek laughs. "Is that your idea of telling people about us?" 

"Well, fuck," Yuri rolls his eyes, "Apparently I was being too romantic. Life, you know, is not a fairytale." 

Otabek finally pulls over in front of his building. "No, it's not," he unbuckles his seatbelt and takes Yuri by surprise when leaning over the console to kiss Yuri. "But I like it better this way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuri is like [this when they go out for dinner](http://static.wixstatic.com/media/0dac48_19e4ee2ad8e64e4b9be63e65c18b4bd8.jpg).
> 
> Now, I'm not sure about what I will do with this part from now on. It's gotten pretty boring to follow their day-to-day lives because my creativity has a limit (and I've already filled out what was most important in this, which was how they met and got together) so next chapter should be the beginning of a second part to this? Like, they'll continue being young and such - still no babies - but it'll be like drabbles with a linear resolution, just like it is for Part 3, maybe a month in between.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's a bit shorter than the rest. Anyway, have fun!

"I like this one better," Yuri announces, propping his chin on Otabek's sternum and reading the headline aloud. " _Date night? Otabek Altin and Yuri Plisetsky leave a romantic dinner and the internet goes wild_. A bit pretentious though. What do you think?" 

Otabek groans in response, eyebrows knit together as he types furiously on his phone. "Yeah. My agent is kind of furious." 

Yuri rolls his eyes, "when aren't they? Hell, I don't think I've ever seen Yakov happy." 

Otabek smirks, but runs his fingers over Yuri's hair absentmindedly. They are on Yuri's couch, the credits to a romantic comedy still rolling up the screen. Yuri's phone had been going off all night long until he'd decided to turn it off. He had to deal with Yakov's texts come morning but Yuri was more than happy to answer his loud accusations with a simple affirmation that yes, they were dating. Big deal. 

Yuri takes the time to scroll down his feed before checking the Yuri's Angels fanpage. It's a circus. 

The main post is the one with the pictures taken last night, with 8k likes. Yuri's legs looked really good in that dress, head ducked, walking alongside Otabek, practically pressed to his side. But their held hands were visible between them. Yuri felt a shaky kind of pride, glancing up at Otabek who was still engrossed in his phone. 

**_@yurio_bae_** _: they're seeing each other for reeeeaaaal! Ahhh! Someone plz come up with a pairing name. I like yuribek!!_

**_@queenyuri_** _: damn they r so hot together! I hope they date and fuck for all eternity and have lots of babies! **@yurio_bae** , I like otayuri better_

_**@prince-yurotchka** : Hahaha! Otayuri, I like that one! Srsly tho have they said anything abt it yet? They look kind of soft with each other like, Yuri is normally very active in social media and we knew about his past relationships way before he divulged something to make it official. I don’t see any of that wth Otabek tho. I don't mean that he's not as interested or invested or smthg... Still super happy they are together, they make such a cute couple! <3_

_**@yura-ngel21** : well **@prince-yurotchka** , otabek was in moscow with yuri. it's obvious, they both posted pictures there at the same time (check otabek's latest post on instagram and yuri's photo with his cat)… but yes I get what u mean. I remember when Yuri dated the screamo guy from that metal band he posted photos of them kissing aaaall the time and that was before he said anything. I think he's trying to b more private with his life now and otabek is a no-goer if u r looking for personal information so we'll hav to wait and see_

**_@yuryo_** _: finally! How is otabek's fanbase reacting?? I remember they were all dickheads to yuri. I will not rest until we get revenge._

_**@queenyuri** : oh apparently they're not too happy_

Otabek's fanbase is very big, bigger than Yuri's but that was probably because music was more universal than fashion. They have photos of Otabek everywhere, and the background is a crowd going crazy in one of his shows.

###### Otabek may be in a new relationship with a model. This time? Yuri Plisetsky

> _Otabek and Yuri Plisetsky left a stylish restaurant last night in St Petersburg. Click for more pictures and learn more about Yuri Plisetsky here. _

Otabek's fans are way less about infinite shrieking than Yuri's. But some of them seem to be straight out bastards.

 _ **@altyngirl** : media can be so boring sometimes. I mean, they didn't even know each other until a few days ago and they r alrdy talking abt a relationship... _

_**@anna-altin** : I can't believe Otabek's dating that guy!!! Yuri is such a bastard! They have nothing in common. I bet it's all sex, he's seduced Otabek, they will never love each other. Ahhhhh this makes me so mad why can't people see it??_

_**@dj_ahmed** : dude, yuri plisetsky is hot as all hell. cant blame the guy for getting a piece of that ass ;)_

_**@daddybek** : sorry, who ??? never heard of him _

_**@ota-girl32** : Yuri Plisetsky is a 22 year old top model. He's from Moscow originally but lives in St Petersburg nowadays. He's worked for several big brands including most recently Baranovskaya. He's currently rated fourth on the list of highest paid models in the market. Source: wikipedia hahah _

_**@baby_bekaltin** : I know who he is, he has a terrible reputation. he's terribly annoying and a stuckup. I don't see this going too far ... still preferred beka with savanna <3_

Who? Yuri glances at Otabek, whose fingers still haven't stopped playing with his hair. Yuri shifts his eyes back to his phone. He knew Otabek had exes, he had them too. But if there was one thing Yuri absolutely hated about fans was when they 'shipped' him with exes that treated Yuri like was shit and then messaged him later about how they should go back together. People. 

_**@daddybek** : yesss **@baby_bekaltin** , I loved them together!!1 savanna was super fun and she was into music as well , now he only ever dates models :( _

Fingers itching, Yuri opens his browser and goes to google images. He starts typing 'otabek altin' in the search bar and ignores most of the suggestions such as 'otabek altin and mate', 'otabek altin hot', 'otabek altin shirtless', 'otabek altin 2017'. He types in 'and' and one of the suggestions pops up Savanna O'Laughlin as a complement. Yuri taps on it and watches as lots of pictures of Otabek next to a redhaired girl load. She looks familiar. Actually, she seems to be the same woman Yuri'd read about on that Kazakh magazine making wild guesses at Otabek's love life, the Disney singer or actress, some shit like that. She looked twelve. The media wasn't rich on them though, save for a picture taken by a paparazzi showing the two of them walking down a sidewalk, hands brushing, there was nothing but one of their pictures photoshopped next to the other's and fanarts. 

Yuri glances at Otabek again. Does he ever get jealous of Yuri? Does he look up pictures of him with his exes? Does he read his fans' comments and gives a time of his day to what they have to say about his relationships? Apparently not. So Yuri must be going crazy already. He goes back to Otabek's fanpage, and is gratified to see the answers to the latest comments. There's one in Korean, another in Arabic and another from someone whose English isn't very good. 

_**@crazyskull** : it is his life though and if it were mine I wouldn't pass the chance to fuck yuri plisetski either :ppp_

_**@dj_ahmed** : **@crazyskull** don’t even tell me, dude has an amazing ass_ , and then he adds a hyperlink that leads to one of the [pictures](http://i.imgbox.com/yqJYEpxP.jpg) Yuri'd taken for a lingerie photoshoot a year ago. 

_**@crazyskull** : hooottt fuck now wishing so much I was altin hahah_

_**@daddybek** : you guys are so disgusting!!! >=( _

Yuri smirks down at his screen. 

"Yura," Otabek calls. Yuri hums, wringing his gaze away from his phone. Otabek clears his throat, scratching the back of his head. "What do you think of- I mean, my agent is asking and maybe it would be better if we just came out." 

Yuri blinks at him. "Oh." 

Otabek looks nervous. "I mean, would that be okay? Your grandfather already knows about us and I've told most of my family." 

"Okay." 

"Okay?" 

"Yes," Yuri smirks. "Let's do it now," he says, and straddles Otabek's hips, directing the camera of his phone his way. 

"Now? Like- Yura!" Otabek chuckles, hiding his face from view. 

"Pleaseee," Yuri begs, grinding his hips against Otabek's in insistence until the Kazakh hisses and holds his hips down. Yuri snickers, leaning down to catch his lips in a kiss. 

"Let me see if I got this straight," Otabek says against his lips, smiling when Yuri nips at his bottom lip playfully. "You want to post a picture of us." 

"What better way to come out is there?" 

Otabek frowns. "I don't know." 

Yuri rolls his eyes. "Great. Now, how should we do it?" He looks around his living room lostly. "We'll need more light," he decides and gets up from Otabek's lap to open the blinds. "There, now. Clothes?" He looks down at himself. He's wearing short pink shorts and one of Otabek's shirts, black and sleeveless, an abstract kind of image on it. "Is this shirt known?" 

"Known?" 

"Yes, like, have you ever been spotted in it?" 

Otabek scratches the top of his head. "I don't know, Yura." 

"Ok, never mind. So, I'm good. Now you," he looks at Otabek. He's lying on his couch, in sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. He looks homey but not exactly in the degree Yuri was looking for. "You'll need to lose the shirt." 

Otabek laughs, "why?" 

"Because I'm asking you too," Yuri jumps on him, fisting the material up and away. "Come on, Beka," he cajoles, "I'll do something very nice for you later," he promises languidly, licking the shell of Otabek's ear and delighting on the shiver it elicits out of his boyfriend. 

"Fuck," Otabek curses, which isn't often except for when Yuri is driving him crazy. He helps Yuri up and throws his shirt on the coffee table. 

Yuri licks his lips at the sight of him. "You should take more shirtless pictures. Seriously. It would, like, save the world or some shit." 

Otabek rolls his eyes at him, but smiles when Yuri shifts closer. He has both legs around Otabek, straddling his lap. Yuri bends until knocking heads with Otabek, letting his hair down as it cascades around them. "Put your hand on my ass," he says and Otabek, despite looking sheepish, does so, but palms at the end of Yuri's thigh. It's good enough. Yuri makes his sexiest face to the camera that he angles up at them. He tucks half of his face next to Otabek's, the Kazakh's eyes shut and a small smile on his lips. They look blissful. And Otabek's chiselled torso coupled with his hand on Yuri's almost-ass is priceless. Yuri captures the selfie and shows it to Otabek, who makes an embarrassed sound and hides his face in Yuri's hair, arms enclosing Yuri next to him. 

"Oh, it's fucking great," Yuri preens, and goes to his Instagram account. "Ready?" He says, and Otabek shrugs but helps him choose through a filter. Yuri does the posting to his account, and takes a minute to come up with something witty to caption it with.

####  _**@yuri-plisetsky** :_

_Surprise, motherfuckers! #otabekaltin #bf_

"Now," Yuri sets his phone down on the coffee table. "We let the magic begin," he smirks at Otabek, whose hands come up to thread through his hair and pull his head down. His phone is already pinging with messages.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for keeping up! [queenhumanoid](http://queenhumanoid.tumblr.com/) has made a [beautiful photoset for the fic](https://notyourusualfairytale-au.tumblr.com/post/160133800250/omg-what-is-this-gorgeous-thing-doing-sitting). Go check it out!

"Good, Jesus fucking Christ, I thought you'd been abducted or some shit," Yuri exclaims, mug between his hands as he waits for Otabek to finish untying his shoes. Otabek, who is now pretty much his official boyfriend, wears a jumper, sweatpants and running shoes that he's currently setting pristinely aside Yuri's shoes that are thrown around next to the door. He's sweaty, which, _hmm_ , Yuri loves, and gives Yuri wide eyes and an apologetic grin. 

"Sorry, I went for a run," he says with a shrug, stepping further into the apartment and towards Yuri, blows at the surface of his coffee and eyes him through the rim. 

"I thought you'd given up," he teases, mouth turned into a small, playful purse that Otabek effortlessly kisses away. He also grips Yuri's chin between his thumb and forefinger, which always makes something very good uncurl at the bottom of Yuri's stomach, a fluttering that goes down to his toes and makes him want to do something stupid like lift his leg in an old-fashioned, affected romantic move. 

"Given up? On you, kitten?" Otabek teases lightly, pulling back to stare at Yuri's face searchingly. He'd started calling Yuri that, _kitten_ a few days ago. Other people had used the same pet name for Yuri, but none made him feel the way Otabek did when he said it. Yuri was no fool, and no innocent, he knew they were only in the first, blissful months of dating where they counted down the hours to see each other, found dumb reasons to celebrate the months they were already together and couldn't get out of each other's hairs to breathe fresh air for a single minute. But fuck, if he wasn't going to enjoy it. 

Yuri hums. "You never know. I've been told I'm too much to handle," he turns on his heels, looking at Otabek over his shoulder and lifting both eyebrows teasingly. He wears only dark blue panties that the length of Otabek's sweater hides completely from view, but he bets he can still pull off enough of a sexy vibe even in his mussed hair and creased clothes. Apparently, he is right, because Otabek grabs him by the hips and follows Yuri down to the kitchen all the while draped over his back, whispering things that shouldn't make sense but involve a lot of compliments on Yuri's body shape. "Coffee?" Yuri asks, after they part from a languid kiss, raising his own mug for demonstration. 

Otabek nods, and follows Yuri to other side of the kitchen with a hand on his ass over the sweater's hem. "Yoda," he provides, leaning against the counter and watching Yuri's movements as he grabs the Yoda mug from the cabinet. 

"Don't expect much, my coffee is shit," Yuri says, but hands him the mug all the same, staring down at the countertop to avoid Otabek's immediate reaction. 

"It's good," Otabek says, licking his lips. 

Yuri rolls his eyes. "Right." He goes over to Otabek when he pulls him closer with an arm around his waist. Yuri leans his hipbone against Otabek's, slings one arm over one of his shoulders and sips from his mug. "How was your run?" 

"Nice," Otabek says, "but I got lost on the way back. Hey, that neighbour of yours? We met her at the elevator once." 

Yuri hums, "yeah, Irina, I think. Did she see you?" 

"She found me a few blocks down here. Asked if I was headed to your house." 

Yuri gulps down his coffee. "Oh? You said yes." 

Otabek shrugs. "I couldn't lie. She's a nice girl. Helped her bring in her groceries. She lives in the second floor," he frowns, but gives Yuri an amused smile. "I'm not entirely sure but I can think some parts of her apartment were covered in photos of you." 

Yuri snorts. "Yeah. She's a fan. But she invited you in?" 

Otabek shakes his head, "she opened her front door only. But she was very embarrassed when I kind of... noticed." 

Yuri laughs, and sets his empty mug at the counter behind Otabek, using his now free hand to bring Otabek's head down by the neck for a short kiss, strong with the taste of coffee. "Now everyone in my fanpage will know of our secret lair." 

"Do you follow your own fanpage?" Otabek frowns. 

Yuri blushes and shrugs. "It's good to pass the time." 

Otabek watches him for a minute and then gives an amused huff. "What?" Yuri smacks his shoulder. "Don't you check your own every once in a while? Just for fun?" 

"No," Otabek says, and Yuri knows he means it. 

Yuri mouths at his jaw. "Good. You wouldn't like it, I think." 

Otabek pauses, the hand to Yuri's waist turning firmer. "Do you check it? My fans?" He inches his head back to catch Yuri's eyes. 

"Yes," Yuri shrugs. "They tag me in all of their shit posting now. _'Yuri Plisetsky, you're a giant piece of scum that doesn't deserve Otabek'_ ", Yuri makes an affected, high-pitched voice to express Otabek's fan's comments, but Otabek's eyes widen. 

"Yura," he says, setting his mug down and looking at Yuri worryingly. "Do they- They can't say that. They don't know you. Are they harassing you?" Otabek asks, and then in a guiltier tone, "over me?" 

"For fuck sake, Beka, welcome to planet Earth," Yuri rolls his eyes. "They're just a bunch of retards with too much spare time." 

Otabek is still frowning. "This isn't right. You're my boyfriend, they should... respect you, I mean, they should respect any person but most of all you." 

Yuri chuckles and breathes against Otabek's lips. "I know. Forget them." Otabek is stiff under Yuri's kisses but he grows warmer with time. 

"Still-" he continues, and Yuri shushes him with a finger to his lips. 

"Come on, let's go back to bed," Yuri pulls him by the hand back to the bedroom, where the duvet and the pillow lie in a cocooned disarray at the centre. 

"I have to go to the studio in an hour," Otabek informs and Yuri grunts, settling with his head on his chest for a minute. He then remembers Otabek is still sweaty from his run and twists his nose. He doesn't say anything though, but Otabek being gone the first thing he was going to do was taking the sheets to wash. They needed it anyway, but Yuri wasn't about to scare his boyfriend away with his mood. Yet. 

"Yeah, how is it coming out by the way?" Yuri asks, circling a fingertip around Otabek's nipple through his jumper. Otabek's hips shift beneath him. 

"Fine. I think I got most of the pieces done. Victor will listen to it when we're in England and then tell me what else he needs once we're back," Otabek says, and Yuri feels his chin when he looks down at Yuri. "My agent sent me the ticket today." 

Yuri makes a happy sound. "Great." 

"Yeah," Otabek says, broad hand reaching to swipe locks of Yuri's hair away from his ear. "You can stay with me backstage, you're going as my guest so you have free rein over everything." 

"Hm," Yuri purrs, fingertip sliding down on its circle to find Otabek's nipple. He presses on it and delights on the small hitch in Otabek's breath. "So I'll be your Mrs Altin for the evening?" He chuckles, slinking over Otabek's chest to get acess to his lips. They kiss some more, hot and languid, with the side of Yuri's body over Otabek's, whose hands begin to wander anew, scurrying up Yuri's thighs and bunching the material of his own sweater when he slinks them up to cup Yuri's ass cheeks. He parts the kiss with a curious expression on his face. 

"Jackpot," Yuri whispers to him, smiling. 

"Not quite," Otabek murmurs. His eyes have turned dark, half-lidded, lips grown apart by a mere inch, and he's giving Yuri that look that promised so many pleasurable things, as though holding himself back from fucking Yuri was a matter of resilience only. "Forgive a man for being hopeful, but I thought you weren't wearing underwear," the way he says it is husky, eyes liquidly moving over Yuri's face. 

"Well," Yuri cants his hips to give Otabek's hands more room, "you can always take them off." 

 

\- 

 

"Relax," Yuri says to the skin of Otabek's hip. He peppers kisses to it, nipping at the skin while softly parting Otabek's thighs with his hands. 

"I'm relaxed," Otabek lies. His hands tell otherwise, fisted to the sheets beside Yuri's head. Yuri rolls his eyes, Otabek is always so sensitive to Yuri's touches, but once he got going he could put Yuri to sleep in only a few rounds. Otabek, Yuri muses, licking the cockhead and enveloping him in his mouth, was like a barrier, containing the flow until it eventually broke. And when he broke he spilled in Yuri's mouth, warm and salty. Yuri made a face and pulled away. He wasn't used to swallowing, he found it disgusting. 

"Sorry," Otabek says, chest heaving still, brushing a hand to the side of Yuri's head apologetically. 

Yuri shakes his head to show he needn't apologize and rose, mouth full of come, to spit at the bathroom sink. Otabek came up after him, kissing a notch on his spine before entering the shower. Yuri finishes washing his mouth and leans against the sink. "You know, they say come tastes better in alphas that are rutting." 

Otabek pauses on his gentle washing of his cock. "Really?" He turns to Yuri with a frown. 

Yuri shrugs. "I've always thought it's because when they do omegas are often in heat. And when in heat everything about your alpha turns delicious." 

Otabek gives him a slow-spreading smile. Yuri watches him and saunters out of the bathroom without saying another word. He liked teasing Otabek, sue him. 

Yuri unplugs his phone from the charger and checks for any emails. He grabs his baggage from his closet and sets it on the bed. They left tomorrow for England. Yuri had a shoot that Otabek was going to pick him up after. They would be travelling in Otabek's jet and Yuri couldn't wait to fuck in it. He'd never had a boyfriend who owned a jet before and found himself giddy at the thought of spending a whole flight in Otabek's presence without other, stranger people there to ruin the pleasure of the experience. 

Changing clothes, Yuri checks his accounts and takes a look at his and Otabek's photo. Surprisingly, Yakov hadn't given him much shit about it, had only called and sighed at Yuri and used an incredibly monotone, tired voice to say he'd talk to Otabek's agent. 

Yuri grins. The photo now has almost 800k likes. The comments varied but most of them were well-wishes on the couple and lots of 'I already knew's or 'I told you so's. Yuri'd gained 500 thousand followers since, and was still a bit gobsmacked by the number. Otabek, who didn't take any of that seriously, only shrugged when Yuri told him that, which had let him to actually wonder aloud how many followers _Otabek_ had. It was over 25 million. Yuri looked it up. 

In truth, Yuri's photo had the exact result he'd been expecting, only a bit more. His phone rang all the time, people wanting to interview him. Otabek's was no different, except he spent at least one hour discussing with his mother on the phone. Yuri tried not to take offense. As for Yuri's Angels... Yuri scrolled down their page. They were mixing Yuri's and Otabek's photos in a app that would apparently tell the face of their firstborn, and digging every information of Otabek's life they could find. Yuri was treated to photos of Otabek, a teenager, already spinning at some clubs in Almaty, other of Otabek, face drawn tight as he held a bronze medal for his country on boxing, and also Otabek, distractedly typing on his phone in what had to be a photo taken by a fan, a few years younger and apparently on vacation in some island. 

Just as Yuri refreshed the page, a new post came up. It was one of the "angels", the admins of the page, detailing that trustful sources said Otabek was spending his days in Yuri's apartment in St Petersburg. It had even a post scriptum that added that Otabek was a gentleman and that he smelled very nice. Yuri's eyes narrowed. Irina. 

Otabek exited the bathroom. He didn't seem to like that Yuri was reading something on his phone. "Yura, don't read those things." 

"These are benign," Yuri says, but exits the page all the same. He goes back to his instagram account to show Otabek their photo, to which he responds by sitting beside Yuri and nuzzling his neck, staring over his shoulder. The comments now are rallying for more pictures of them together, have been for days. Yuri snorts and goes back to packing. Otabek, still on the bed, watches him with a gaze Yuri's found out to be all about gentle admiration of his form. 

Yuri sits on the armchair by his bedside and lifts an eyebrow in his direction, rolling socks in. "Didn't you have to be at the studio by now?" 

Otabek blinks at him, as though now realizing Yuri wasn't some kind of mirage and could actually speak. "Yura," he calls, and when Yuri looks up Otabek's taken his own phone in hand, "would you pose for me?" 

Yuri laughs. "Are we at that stage already?" 

Otabek smiles, "please." 

Yuri throws one rolled sock at him, which rebounds at his chest. "Very well," Yuri permits with an edge of sassiness, drawing his legs up and crossing them. "How do you want me?" 

Otabek aims his camera at him and Yuri is momentarily distracted by the musical notes of Otabek's case. "The way you are." 

Yuri crosses his arms and juts his chin up defiantly. He likes this pose. It wasn't the sexiest he could be but it showed something about him, drawn in but blocking everything else, a soldier's stance. Otabek snaps the picture, or at least looks like he did, aiming his phone away from Yuri and typing on it, a strangely serene look on his face. 

"How did it come out?" Yuri asks, jumping on the bed next to him. "Beka!" He says, when he sees Otabek has posted it. Without even showing Yuri first to see if he looked bad in it. Asshole. 

Otabek smiles mischievously, grabbing a shirt from somewhere before ducking to kiss Yuri on the lips quickly. "Going," he says, and Yuri shouts at him only a little bit before they depart at the door. Sighing, Yuri leans against the doorway and takes his phone to check Otabek's account. He'd posted Yuri's picture to it.

####  **@otabek-altin:**

Private photoshoot with **@yuri-plisetsky** #boyfriend #beautiful 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The festival still isn't here, sorry. I had everything I wanted for this chapter put down but I had an important exam this week and only returned to writing today, so sorry if there are some parts that are pointless because I was building up for what I wanted and then lost track of it. Still, hope you enjoy! Special thanks to [@queenhumanoid](http://queenhumanoid.tumblr.com) and [@yours-julie](http://yours-julie.tumblr.com) for making the most beautiful photosets ever for the fic.

###  **Can you think of a hotter couple? Otabek Altin and Yuri Plisetsky are out as the newest sweetheart pairing of the internet!**

###  **Altin's new bf: the reasons behind Yuri Plisetsky's ever rising fame**

###  **Music and fashion world shocked! Otabek posts candid of boyfriend on Instagram**

****

Yuri scrolls down his phone, sending occasional quick looks up at his reflection on the mirror. A hairdresser has been working on him for the past hour. His and Otabek's flight is supposed to take off four hours from now and Yuri's stomach has been churning with anticipation as he tries to distract himself. He only needs to get this shoot done. Otabek is coming to pick him up so they can drive to the airport later. 

Visiting his account, Yuri sees that his colleagues and even Baranovskaya's official account has liked Otabek's picture, including, he pauses, Mila. She'd liked Yuri's picture as well but haven't left a comment on either yet. 

_**@katsuki-yuuri** : So happy for you guys! Wish you all the best! Yuri, you are beautiful! ♥♡_

_**@v-nikiforov** : Amaziiiiiing!! Good luck to the couple!!! ✨✩❤_

_**@leo-delaiglesia** : Congrats!! Such a beautiful picture. Otabek, you're free to picture me too whenever you'd like hahahhaha... I'm kidding, Yuri!! #pleasedontkillme _

_**@aisha-altin** : Beka, he's beautiful!!! I love him! Bring him to Almaty! Ask him that thing I told you #cute #couple #otayuri _

_**@dastan-daurenev26** : nice, man! #doesurmotherknowtho _

_**@serik_alibiev** : does he a have a brother or sister? Hahaha all the best man! #urmotherwillflip_

Otabek's friends seem to have invaded the comments too. Apart from those, an Alen and a Daniar also leave encouraging comments and make jabs at Otabek's mother's reaction. Yuri frowns. Otabek talks a lot about his family, and his sister seems to be ecstatic with their relationship. His mother, however, didn't seem very warm to the idea, not if she spoke to him for one hour on the phone. Otabek didn't say anything about her though so Yuri wasn't going to look for problems. 

Yuri's hair is done, so the costume girls help him inside the outfit and roll sheer black stockings up his legs. He takes a seat while the director gets the set ready and his phone pings. 

_Yuri_  
_we need to talk_

It is, surprisingly, Phichit. 

_we do?_

_yes_  
_r u with otabek? for real?_

Yuri frowns down at the screen. _wtf? yeah. I thought you'd seen it_

_I did, it's all over the internet_ _It's just..._  
_I don't know how to say this_

_Say what?_ Phichit'd never been one to stall around a topic. It has Yuri anxious. What could he have to say that he didn't know how to phrase? Huffing, Yuri stores his phone away when the photographer gets in position.

_____It goes by pretty quickly. Yuri poses for the lens in as many ways as he can think of and changes into the last outfit when Otabek arrives. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, or at least very out of place. Yuri'd warned the managers his boyfriend would probably stop by at the end and they said it wouldn't be a problem. He is steered inside by a staff member and the make-up girls hurry to greet him and offer him the chair Yuri had been occupying._ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri's heart doubles its beats when he sees him, but tries to keep his utmost attention on his job. From his peripheral vision he can see Otabek gingerly sat behind the cameras, hands on his knees and eyes fixated on Yuri. He shakes his head when the girls offer him coffee._ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri flicks a lock of hair away from his face in between snaps. There are only a couple more pictures left before it's done and Yuri doesn't want to make Otabek late for his flight considering the shoot had taken longer than usual to start. They hand him a lollipop for the last photos and Yuri is completely aware of Otabek's gaze on him when he leans against the wall and pulls the hem of his dress up, red lollipop poised provocatively on his lips. The photographer snaps the[picture](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/67/0b/be/670bbe14fecfa84cb6cad4c214eec586.jpg) and guides Yuri through a couple more directions before it's over. _ _ _ _ _

_____Sighing, Yuri is told he can keep the lollipop and moves towards Otabek._ _ _ _ _

_____"Hey," he greets, leaning down to kiss him._ _ _ _ _

_____"Hey," Otabek gulps when they part, obviously trying not to let his eyes rake down Yuri. Yuri's kiss leaves a small smear of red lipstick on his lips, which is comical. The make-up girl is giving them a knowing grin, a blush high on her cheeks as she asks Yuri if he would like to change back into his clothes now._ _ _ _ _

_____"Are we late?" Yuri turns to ask Otabek, who shakes his head. "I'll be over in a minute," he informs her, and sits on Otabek's knees as the set is taken down behind them. "So," he says, crossing his legs and leaning sideways on Otabek's shoulders, "did you like it?"_ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek is looking down at his lap, hand reaching to touch Yuri's thigh reverently. It drags up and down the sheer tissue and Yuri makes a low, content noise. "Yes," Otabek says. "I thought I wouldn't get to see you in one of these again. Still shaken from the fishnets last time."_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri chuckles, "really?" He nuzzles into Otabek's jaw and nips gently at his bottom lip. He smells of manly cologne and _Otabek_ , and it has a part of Yuri shivering in familiarity and anticipation. "I can dress up for you a little bit sometimes." _ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek's hold on him tightens for a second. He valiantly tries to look like he won't be taking the idea up._ _ _ _ _

_____"Would you like that?" Yuri prods, smirking salaciously and snapping a quick peck to his cheek._ _ _ _ _

_____"Yura," Otabek groans lowly, staring over Yuri's shoulder at the people still in the room. "It's bad enough that you're wearing that and sitting on my lap-"_ _ _ _ _

_____"Ok, ok," Yuri laughs and stands up, Otabek's hands scurrying down his legs. "Lollipop?" He offers, dangling the candy in front of Otabek's eyes._ _ _ _ _

_____"Not really," Otabek says, and he looks up at Yuri with dark eyes and that expression that means he's about to say something indecent and doesn't know how Yuri is going to take it, "you look better licking it."_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri smirks teasingly, and leans down to hand the candy to Otabek. "I intend to lick a bigger lollipop later," he says, only for Otabek to hear, which he does, if the way he tenses and his eyes settle on Yuri's lips is any indication. "But hold it for me, baby?" He asks, and leaves it with Otabek before going to change back into his clothes._ _ _ _ _

_____ _ _ _

_____-_ _ _ _ _

_____ _ _ _

_____"Phichit has been acting weird," Yuri is saying, back in his jeans and[bomber jacket](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/31/95/e2/3195e2b16cd3e72deb22871c0e933b73.jpg). They're leaving the building of his shoot towards the taxi, Yuri's hair loose and smelling sugary with hair products. Otabek has been subtly leaning closer to sniff it and Yuri squeezes his hand on his. _ _ _ _ _

_____"Who?" Otabek asks, pulling Yuri out of the building by the hand._ _ _ _ _

_____"Phichit," Yuri says, "a guy I know."_ _ _ _ _

_____"Why is that?"_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri shrugs. "Did you get my baggage?" He asks. Otabek nods and they spend some time talking about the logistics of their flight before the taxi is halfway into the airport. Phichit still hasn't answered Yuri. Which isn't usual for him._ _ _ _ _

_____"Do you think he has a problem with us being together?" Otabek asks carefully, when Yuri tells him everything in the backseat._ _ _ _ _

_____"I have no fucking idea," Yuri frowns at his phone._ _ _ _ _

______Phichit??_ he types in. Phichit sees it but says nothing. Yuri clicks his tongue. "Doesn't fucking matter," Yuri grumbles, "I don't care about anyone's opinion." _ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek gives him a small smile in reassurance and squeezes Yuri's hand in his, settled over his lap. Yuri smirks at him and leans to kiss the lobe of his ear. "Talking about opinions, your friends seemed really worried about your mother."_ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek grimaces in unease. "She's old-fashioned. She literally has a problem with everyone I've ever dated."_ _ _ _ _

_____"Charming," Yuri smirks, "what is her complaint about me?"_ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek watches him for a minute and resolutely shakes his head. "Don't worry about it, Yura."_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri wants to press further. Actually, he knows he shouldn't. He _had_ just said he doesn't mind other people's opinion. But it's not just any person, like Phichit, whom Yuri knows but whose view of his relationship wouldn't turn Yuri's world upside down. It was Otabek's mother. She'd given birth to him. Yuri doesn't really know how this works, doesn't know how a caring mother behaves towards her son's relationships but from what he'd seen in movies they tended to be as sceptical as Otabek's mother was seeming to be. And yet she seems so detached from their life that Yuri doesn't feel like whatever she has to say will be able to threaten them. She was all the way in Almaty and if her long rants on Otabek's phone weren't enough to make her son change his mind about dating Yuri then he should be satisfied. _ _ _ _ _

_____They exit the car and the driver helps them get their baggage out of the trunk. They enter the airport and stick close together though no one has seemingly recognized them. Yuri doesn't know the intricacies that come with riding your own jet so he lets Otabek lead the way._ _ _ _ _

_____They get their passports checked by a guy in a suit somewhere and go straight to the security. It's nothing different from what Yuri had experienced before, except he now keeps a close eye to anyone that might recognize them. The guy from the x-ray doesn't really fucking care just as any of the others, just unremarkably sliding their eyes over the contents of their plastic bins before trying to get into an agreement with his colleagues of who is leaving first for dinner._ _ _ _ _

_____They collect their things and Otabek leads them towards the gates. They walk until seemingly getting to the end of the hall at which point Otabek nods at someone waiting by a heavy door. They push through it and climb down a couple stairs until reaching, unsurprisingly, the runway._ _ _ _ _

_____There's a sleek white jet waiting for them, the lights from the lane reflecting on it. Yuri pauses, halting for a second to take it in before Otabek smiles at him over his shoulder and pulls him by the hand in the direction of it._ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek's pilot is a small Asian man that nods sympathetically at them and smiles at Yuri when Otabek introduces him as his boyfriend. The co-pilot looks to be British, and he is the one that offers to store Yuri's baggage away, which he promptly accepts._ _ _ _ _

_____"If there's anything else you would need," he says, and leaves to the cabin with a nod after closing the heavy door to the jet._ _ _ _ _

_____The[interior](http://mygdas.com/preowned/aircraft/ac5106/_images/interior2.jpg) isn't overly decorated but still exudes that minimalist, stylish glow, the seats are wider and more comfortable, not meant for placing as many people in the tightest space possible like commercial planes. There's a table between two opposing, wide seats at the far end, close to the bathroom, a small tv adorning the wall in front of a sofa. _ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri's jaw drops. "What the flying fuck?!"_ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek flushes. "Sorry it's a bit extra," he actually _apologizes_ , "I bought it from a sheik. He was a bit extravagant but he's the father of a friend of mine and only asked for half the price." _ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri is barely listening, throwing his jacket somewhere and sitting on all the seats. "Does this work?" He presses the button on the tv. The map for their flight shows up._ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek laughs, "it does, yeah. We could watch something on it later. Sabina is home because her daughter is sick," he keeps saying, and Yuri glances at him curiously, "my flight attendant. So we'll have to fend for ourselves with food. There are snacks lying around somewhere from my last tour," he goes check the cabinets. Yuri can't shake off the impression that Otabek is actually nervous for having him here, and watches him with a small grin as he walks around checking the compartments and putting his stuff around familiarly._ _ _ _ _

_____"It may look like a novelty now but it'll get pretty boring after a while," Otabek says, bending to take quilts out of a cabinet. "It's worst when you're lonely though," he pauses, probably realizing how terrible that came out, "that sounds really forever alone."_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri laughs, and sprawls on the sofa. The material is rich and soft beneath him. "No one uses this meme anymore," he comments, spreading his arms out when Otabek throws the quilt in his direction. It smells of Otabek, and Yuri burrows closer to it._ _ _ _ _

_____The engines start with a low whir. Otabek looks at him._ _ _ _ _

_____"We should probably seat and put our seatbelts on," he says. Yuri, excited to be in an enclosed space with his boyfriend for the duration of the trip, bolts next to him and puts on his seatbelt accordingly. Otabek looks at him with an extremely earnest expression on, and seems surprised when Yuri reaches to clear the smear of lipstick that was still clinging to his lips. He blinks at Yuri's finger and gives a low chuckle. "No way, was this- during all this time? And you didn't tell me." Yuri smirks, and Otabek squints at him, "Ah, Yura..."_ _ _ _ _

_____The jet starts taxiing and soon enough they take off. Yuri feels giddy as soon as they maintain their altitude and the seatbelts are longer necessary. "You know, I can be your flight attendant," he teases, throwing one leg over Otabek's lap and settling there._ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek grins up at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling. His smile falls into a gasp when Yuri wetly mouths at his neck. He feels Otabek's hands settling on his hips._ _ _ _ _

_____"Yura- I, erm," Otabek murmurs, "I should probably tell you but my pilots can hear us if-"_ _ _ _ _

_____"No shit," Yuri gasps, and detaches his mouth from Otabek to give him a surprised look, which then morphs into a smirk, "I suppose we'll have to be silent then," he says in a whisper and forcefully tugs at the longer part of Otabek's hair to pull his head back to kiss him._ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek responds with a low grunt that shakes Yuri to his core, roughly cupping the sides of Yuri's neck and giving as good as he got. His tongue works past Yuri's lips and soon Yuri has them twining together, rocking his hips on Otabek's and feeling a hot current that leads blood to pool at his lower stomach. Yuri nips at Otabek's bottom lip and swallows his sigh when Otabek lets his head back on the head rest to watch Yuri under heavy eye-lashes._ _ _ _ _

_____"Will you fuck me with your seatbelt on?" Yuri lifts one eyebrow, sliding a hand between them to pointedly unbuckle Otabek's seatbelt. "Not that it wouldn't be kinky," he continues, now mouthing at Otabek's collarbone. Otabek moans in response. "But it'd be a bit difficult, ah- Beka," he gasps at a particularly good rocking. "I'm just so fucking horny," he confesses, throwing his head back when Otabek takes the reins and leans to smother kisses down his neck. It sends a shiver down Yuri's spine, but at his own admission he pauses and blinks at the space above Otabek's shoulder. "Actually," he says. It's hard to concentrate with the way Otabek is doing his hardest to mark his neck, "I think my heat is going to be soon."_ _ _ _ _

_____At the word _heat_ Otabek promptly detaches his mouth from him. "What?" He asks, a little dumbly. _ _ _ _ _

_____"My heat," Yuri says, "it's due in a month or so."_ _ _ _ _

_____"Oh," Otabek makes, licking his lips. "That's... good?"_ _ _ _ _

_____"Do you think?" Yuri cocks his head. He knows Otabek thinks it will be more than good, judging by the way his eyes go dark whenever Yuri tiptoes around the subject._ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek shrugs. "I don't know, Yura. It's your body."_ _ _ _ _

_____That answer was less sexy than Yuri'd hoped for. Otabek, in fact, is staring at their laps, as though Yuri'd pushed too hard on something he was uncomfortable with. But he was an alpha, Yuri was an omega and he was making strong insinuations as to his heat in the hopes that Otabek would jump along to the proposition, or at least acknowledge there had been one. Yuri frowns._ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek, behaving as though nothing had happened, squeezes Yuri's thighs and flashes him a small smile. "I should check my remixes," he says, probably meaning for Yuri to get out of his lap. Yuri has frozen and is instead blinking down at him._ _ _ _ _

_____"Do you, by any chance," Yuri begins, "have a fucking problem with my heat?"_ _ _ _ _

_____"No," Otabek answers, brows furrowing slightly, "I just really need to check my playlist-"_ _ _ _ _

_____"You didn't need to do that five seconds ago when you were biting my neck," Yuri states, and the silence that follows is one he doesn't like. Otabek is watching him with a perfect, solemn face. It was Yuri's first encounter with that expression, and he already knew he wouldn't like it all the other times when Otabek would pull it out. But there was something Otabek was hiding and Yuri hated, _hated_ secrets. "Spit it, Altin," he crosses his arms, weighing down on his boyfriend's lap stubbornly. Yuri had strong thighs, he worked out a shit of a lot, so it wasn't easy escaping his hold. _ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek squares his jaw, losing eye contact with Yuri for a second. "Did you spend your heats with your exes?"_ _ _ _ _

_____Oh, Yuri already knew what this was about. Trying to hide the smirk that threatened to pull on his face, Yuri pursed his lips. "Yes. Why?"_ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek shakes his head minutely. "I remember you telling Yuuri," he pauses, "that you did."_ _ _ _ _

_____"Hmm," Yuri makes, and decides to prod a little more, "and you have a problem with it?"_ _ _ _ _

_____"No," Otabek shakes his head all too quickly. "I was just- I mean, I just think you're free to do as-"_ _ _ _ _

_____"You are jealous," Yuri speaks over him. Otabek goes silent at that, but doesn't deny it, looks, above all, sheepish. Yuri doesn't hold his face for longer and instead chuckles. "You know, if you want to spend my heat with me-"_ _ _ _ _

_____"That is up to you," Otabek quickly retorts. It's clear he meant it to fall matter-of-factly but his hope is palpable, the earnest glances he sends Yuri show that._ _ _ _ _

_____"I was fucking inviting you, idiot," Yuri growls, and fists a handful of Otabek's collar._ _ _ _ _

_____"Shit," Otabek hisses, "I didn't- I'm sorry, I didn't know you were offering."_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri rolls his eyes dramatically. "I will send you a formal invitation next fucking time then. Gods," he throws his hair to the side. Otabek is watching him with these slightly glimmering eyes, preening like a child that got what it wanted but doesn't want to let it show. Yuri smirks down at him. "Will you? Fuck me in my heat?"_ _ _ _ _

_____"Well, it's up to-"_ _ _ _ _

_____"Just say yes, fucking damnit!"_ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek watches him for an agonizing second. "Yes, of course."_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri wants to punch him so hard. Instead he ends up kissing him, deep and sloppy. In the end Yuri's belly growls and Otabek sets about procuring something for them to eat while Yuri crams himself into the bathroom to change. He doesn't know what is appropriate because he'd never changed clothes in a plane before. It feels like he and Otabek are still in his living room apartment if it were not for the unmistakable sound of the engine humming under and around them, like they're going through a tunnel for hours. It is, at least in St Petersburg, night, so Yuri changes into his black and white leopard print pajamas._ _ _ _ _

_____When he steps out of the bathroom and dumps his baggage somewhere, Otabek is by the counter in front of the bathroom, heating something that smells spicy._ _ _ _ _

_____"I found soup," Otabek says, leaning against the counter as it heats up. He's changed clothes too, sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. The a/c is quite strong inside but Yuri doesn't want to fuck up the instruments to lessen it. Also, he likes the excuse for sticking close to his Otabek._ _ _ _ _

_____He pads over to him and leans his head against Otabek's shoulders, being immediately hugged. Otabek drops a kiss on his head and seems to be staring at the wall opposite them. "I should've brought something sexier," Yuri says._ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek chuckles. "What?"_ _ _ _ _

_____"Well," Yuri looks up at him, "I'm in my boyfriend's private jet, alone with him, so I think we should get to enjoy the other aspects of a relationship. Although," he burrows closer to Otabek's side, "I do have a surprise."_ _ _ _ _

_____"Surprise?" Otabek frowns. But the food is apparently ready, so he does whatever it is needs doing and dunks a soup into two bowls for them. They eat the table and Yuri tries peering through the small window but sees nothing but a wide expanse of black nothingness. The soup is good but salty, and Yuri has to blow on the surface of it before attempting another spoonful._ _ _ _ _

_____"Sorry, I should have arranged a better dinner," Otabek says across from Yuri._ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri shrugs. "As grandpa says, better than being hungry."_ _ _ _ _

_____They play footsie under the table until Yuri tires out and simply props his legs over Otabek's lap. "Are you excited?" He asks, and Otabek looks down at his lap, at the proximity of Yuri's feet to his crotch before realizing Yuri hadn't meant that. "Oh," he makes, and Yuri laughs. "No, you mean, for the festival."_ _ _ _ _

_____"Shit, yes."_ _ _ _ _

_____"Ok. Well, it kind of turns into the same thing with time, you know? Like, I love it, but the nervousness dies down. Until I reach the stage, that's when the jitters start all over again."_ _ _ _ _

_____"Hn," Yuri buries his heel on Otabek's thigh, "I know what you mean," he scoops more soup up, "It's like this with me too. I don't give a fuck until they're giving me my outfit and people are running around. By the way, how are things with JJ?"_ _ _ _ _

_____"Yes," Otabek supports his already empty bowl on the table. "I am filing a suit next week."_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri smiles, "really? Ugh, please do, I want to see him fucked up so bad," Otabek blinks at him, "and also, you know, want him to suffer for stealing your shit."_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri licks his spoon clean once he is done. "Is there any more?"_ _ _ _ _

_____"Soup?" Otabek makes a face at their empty bowls. Yuri nods. "There's still some in the pan," he points in the direction of the mini kitchen. Yuri heads there, taking both their bowls with him and leaving them somewhere that resembles a sink. Otabek is setting his things up on the table, his laptop and headphones._ _ _ _ _

_____"Beka," Yuri calls and Otabek looks up, "do you want to see something?"_ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek watches him, face blank. "What?"_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri edges the waistband of his pants lower. He's wearing black lace underwear and Otabek's eyes zero in on them. "You said you hadn't brought anything sexy."_ _ _ _ _

_____"I might have lied," Yuri shucks the pants[all the way down](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/83/b3/f4/83b3f484544037fced33d4e58877ad59.jpg). He feels cold seeping up his legs, and gets the pan with the rest of the food before making his way towards Otabek, who winces and hides most of his face with a hand. _ _ _ _ _

_____"Yura, my-" he sighs, "my pilots can walk in, you know."_ _ _ _ _

_____"I know," Yuri smirks, and sets the food down before procuring the quilt Otabek had given him earlier. He takes the seat beside Otabek instead of the one across him like before, and stretches the quilt over their legs before rolling his hair into a bun and eating from the pan. Otabek watches him with a stupefied face._ _ _ _ _

_____"I can't believe you are real," he says, and then chuckles, seemingly amazed, slinging an arm around Yuri's shoulders. "Thanks for existing," he says, in a lower voice._ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri lets his head fall back on his arm. "You're welcome," he says, and offers a spoon to Otabek, who gladly takes it._ _ _ _ _

_____"Hn, Victor's wedding is a few weeks too," Otabek says, while getting his laptop turned on. "You're my guest, right?"_ _ _ _ _

_____"What wedding? The private one in Italy?"_ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek nods. He opens up whatever app he uses for his job, and squints at the screen for a minute._ _ _ _ _

_____"Oh, they must be in a hurry," Yuri mutters smartly, "they shared a heat, didn't they? Well, the results of that will be surely showing up."_ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek glances at him amusedly, "do you think so?"_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri snorts, "I'm certain. Wanna bet? The pig won't be drinking any alcohol."_ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek smirks softly, giving a small shake of his head. "I won't bet on that, no," he says, and looks around for something. "Knowing them like I do," he pulls up a pair of reading glasses that Yuri is, frankly, shocked to see, "I would lose."_ _ _ _ _

_____"Are you- do you-" he mumbles._ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek flushes, but only minimally, adjusting his glasses up his nose, which he does so automatically that Yuri recognizes it as a habit or a nervous tick. "Oh, yeah. When I stay too long in front of the computer."_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri just stares at him. How can he be so effortlessly sexy and so... domestic at the same time? The glasses have him looking like a goodie two shoes, the kind to wear pressed oxfords and loafers, but instead he's making electronic music and rides a motorcycle and has a giant dick. Otabek still manages to impress him._ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri is soon finished with the rest of the contents of the pan, and it is only when he's taking it to the mini counter that he realizes that maybe he shouldn't have indulged himself with another shoot coming up soon. Whatever._ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek becomes so immersed in his computer and headphones that Yuri settles on the couch, not without taking the quilt from Otabek first, which his boyfriend doesn't seem to mind. He has his phone in plane mode and so has to settle for a ridiculous game on it to pass the time. His battery runs low though, and he soon shucks it aside to stare at Otabek from over the couch's armrest._ _ _ _ _

_____"Are you seriously going to ignore me?" Yuri asks, not loud enough for Otabek to hear apparently. He huffs, and stands up to approach him. Otabek notices him and gives a tiny smile, which Yuri responds to by slowly taking a seat on his lap and taking the headphones off his ears. "In case you haven't noticed," he says, low enough for Otabek to hear, "I'm fucking almost naked."_ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek gulps, so yes, he had noticed it. "Sorry, I just need to take a look at my set for tomorrow."_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri pouts and makes a contradicted sound. "How long is it going to take?"_ _ _ _ _

_____"Not much longer."_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri gives a put-upon sigh, but turns on his heels and goes back to the couch. Otabek doesn't take much after that, if the way Yuri's spread legs have anything to do with it, but he turns on the tv and says they can watch something on it._ _ _ _ _

_____"Like what?" Yuri asks, and browses through Otabek's videos while his boyfriend goes heat some food for the pilots._ _ _ _ _

_____"I thought you said you'd be my flight attendant," Otabek remarks smartly, glancing and grinning at him from his perch on the counter._ _ _ _ _

_____"Do you want me to go in there in these?" He indicates his panties, and Otabek wisely doesn't press the subject. "What the fuck is this, by the way? Are you secretly a romantic comedy mom?" Yuri asks, staring in horror at Otabek's movie files. He has The Notebook, for god's sake, and Titanic. Pretty woman and countless other Julia Roberts movies._ _ _ _ _

_____"I-" Otabek begins saying, but realizes there isn't much he can do if the evidence is staring at Yuri's face. He ducks his head, a small blush high on his cheeks as he gets the food ready. "There's Star Wars too."_ _ _ _ _

_____"Yeah, because that fucking saves the day," Yuri grumbles, and finds a Disney folder. "No way," he deadpans, but Otabek has already gone into the cabin to serve the pilots. Smirking, Yuri puts on Anastasia, because he finds the scenarios nice though the main character is dumb as fuck for not realizing she was the princess all along._ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek's eyes flick to the screen when he comes back. "What is that?" He asks, and Yuri cedes space between his legs, which he takes wordlessly until he's lying with his head on Yuri's lap. Yuri rests against the armrest and pulls the quilt over the length of their bodies._ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri just presses play, averting his eyes from Otabek's knowing grin when the music and the title show up. "And I am the romantic mom?"_ _ _ _ _

_____"Fuck off," Yuri pinches his arm, feeling his cheeks heat up._ _ _ _ _

_____ _ _ _

_____-_ _ _ _ _

_____ _ _ _

_____With the movie ended Otabek turns off the television. Yuri is sleepy enough that he barely feels the movement, instead loosely wrapping his arms around Otabek's shoulders. "What time is it?" He mumbles, as Otabek turns in his arms to smooch his cheek._ _ _ _ _

_____"Don't know, but we still have a little more than five hours of flight."_ _ _ _ _

_____"Oh god," Yuri groans, "wake me when we get there."_ _ _ _ _

_____ _ _ _

_____-_ _ _ _ _

_____ _ _ _

_____But when Otabek wakes him up they're still one hour away. Yuri, with morning breath and dishevelled hair, practically sleep walks to the bathroom, blinking at the bright lights that automatically turn on. He looks terrible, and would be furious that Otabek has gotten to see him in this state if he hadn't already all through their time in St Petersburg._ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri puts on his pants again, a little disappointed that they hadn't fucked, and heads to the mini kitchen to sort out something._ _ _ _ _

_____"There's yogurt and bread," Otabek offers from his seat at the table, again in his reading glasses and staring ominously at the screen of his laptop. There's an empty carton of yogurt next to him, along with a dirty spoon and a couple crackers. Apparently, he'd already had his breakfast._ _ _ _ _

_____Scratching at his neck, Yuri pulls out a juice carton from the fridge and sucks on the straw. "How long have you been awake?" He asks, because he hadn't felt Otabek moving away from him._ _ _ _ _

_____"Uhm, maybe three hours."_ _ _ _ _

_____"Did you get any fucking sleep at all?"_ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek shrugs. "I needed to set this straight," he indicates the laptop, where he's shifting his fingers over the keyboard restlessly._ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri rolls his eyes, throwing the empty carton next to Otabek's and getting his things to change. He moves to the bathroom but doesn't bother locking the door. He had to remind himself this was not vacations, it was Otabek's work. Of course he would make sure everything is good for his _fucking show_ , damnit. Yuri couldn't complain, although the lack of sex did get on his nerves. _ _ _ _ _

_____He steps out in[jeans shorts and jumper](http://blog.urbanoutfitters.com/files/class_of_2017_stav_4.jpg) and walks towards Otabek, taking the seat next to his. Otabek is clicking on some random stuff that Yuri doesn't bother asking about, instead eyeing his nails. _ _ _ _ _

_____"Is this good?" Otabek asks him suddenly, unplugging his headphones from the laptop so that a shifting beat can resound._ _ _ _ _

_____"Yeah," Yuri shrugs, and watches as Otabek nods, taking off his glasses and exiting the app._ _ _ _ _

_____"Sorry," he says, and put his headphones down to nuzzle at Yuri's neck. "I've been kind of shitty."_ _ _ _ _

_____"Kind of?" Yuri teases but laughs and then hisses when Otabek nips at the skin of his neck._ _ _ _ _

_____"Kind of," Otabek affirms, and pulls his face down to kiss him. It's slow and full of tongue, and completely magnetizing. They break apart only to stare at each other's eyes darkly. Otabek licks at his bottom lip and Yuri rakes his nails down his undercut. Otabek groans appreciatively._ _ _ _ _

_____"What was that that you were showing me?" Yuri asks, sighing against Otabek's lips and giving more room to his hand, which is slowly making its way down his thigh._ _ _ _ _

_____"Hn?" Otabek hums, mouthing at Yuri's ear before promptly nipping his earlobe._ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri gasps, fisting Otabek's hair and bringing his head down closer. "That music."_ _ _ _ _

_____"Oh, it's a new thing I've been working on," Otabek cups the back of his thighs, swiftly pulling Yuri to his lap. Yuri goes willingly, purring and bringing their mouths back down together. It's steamy between them, Otabek's hands going up and down his back soothingly while they make out._ _ _ _ _

_____"Show me," Yuri says. Otabek works a mark on his neck that have Yuri's dick twitching in his shorts, and he presses back against the table for more distance. "Show me, Beka."_ _ _ _ _

_____Otabek does show him after their make out session naturally dies down. He gets a pair of earplugs from one of his bags and hands one earbud to Yuri. "It's not complete yet," he's saying, eyes fixed on his laptop, "I don't even know if it's going somewhere but I've been working for Victor for so long that I fear I lost my touch."_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri snorts. Otabek's earbud sits inside his ear and he waits for the music to start. It does. As Otabek said, it isn't ready, but the bass and the skeleton of the beats are, and they sound sensual and slow, smooth and hot just as something only Otabek's mind could've come up with._ _ _ _ _

_____"They's still something missing though. Something romantic, like a violin."_ _ _ _ _

_____Yuri raises one eyebrow. "A violin?" He can't see that working out but then, it's _Otabek_. _ _ _ _ _

_____"Yes," Otabek begins saying but there's a soft knock from the cabin door. The co-pilot pulls his head out and though he blushes at their positioning – Yuri sat still on Otabek's lap -, he gives a reassuring nod before informing they're about to land. Otabek thanks him and they're once more left alone together._ _ _ _ _

_____"Well," Otabek swats his thigh, "we should get ready."_ _ _ _ _

_____ _ _ _

_____-_ _ _ _ _

_____ _ _ _

_____The ride to the hotel has Otabek and Yuri in the backseat, their stuff being carried in the trunk. The driver is a fan of Otabek's and had asked for a selfie first thing before they got inside the car. Otabek, sleep deprived and solemn, had nodded wordlessly and even managed to pull out a small smile for the driver's photo while Yuri lingered in the background._ _ _ _ _

_____Bad news is Yuri's phone's battery is low, but good news is that he gets some semblance of connection to go through his latest notifications. Otabek's picture is still being liked back and forth in Instagram and Victor has sent him a personal message asking if he knew when Otabek would be able to speak to him again._ _ _ _ _

_never, if I get my way_ , he types back and smirks down at his own snark. He turns to make fun of Victor to Otabek but finds his boyfriend's eyes drooping.

_____"Sleepy, baby?" He asks. Otabek barely reacts to the nickname, instead makes a sound in the back of his throat and moves to lie with his head on Yuri's lap._ _ _ _ _

_____"Something like that," he mumbles against Yuri's thigh, and then only purrs when Yuri scratches his scalp soothingly._ _ _ _ _

_____Fingers itching, Yuri snaps a picture of Otabek, head lying on his lap and[posts it](https://notyourusualfairytale-au.tumblr.com/image/160237279380)._ _ _ _ _

####  _**@yuri-plisetsky** : _

_**@otabek-altin** is so spoiled. #missed #bf #hepickedmeupwithaprivatejetwtf #restwellbaby_

_____The image loads slowly, and Yuri checks the rest of his messages before turning the phone off. Yakov has sent him a rude _BE CAREFUL and please, please don't forget your suppressants!!! That's the last thing I need_. Yuri sends back a middle-finger emoji and _oops, maybe I forgot it in st petersburg_. There isn't much left except, Yuri goes rigid, a message from Phichit, dating from four hours ago. Yuri really thinks about blocking him, but his curiosity gets the better of him. _ _ _ _ _

_I don't know what u r playing at,_ Phichit had typed, _but this isn't nice_. 

 

 _WTF????_ Yuri types back, furious.

_____Otabek moves on his lap, sighing and wrapping his arms around Yuri's knees. Yuri rubs at his hair, lips drawn in. He can't fucking believe Phichit. What was wrong with him? Jealous much?_ _ _ _ _

Phichit's answer comes, unsurprisingly, right away: _I thought you and mila were friends!_

_____Yuri blinks confusedly down at the screen. The mention of Mila has an old wound reopening and he's suddenly very, very pissed off with Phichit._ _ _ _ _

_what the flying fuck r u talkng abt??? Mila can go fuck herself_  
_she gave me the cold shoulder for months for no reason_

 

 _tbh i never believed the rumors_  
_but u r exactly what they say abt u_

 

 _wow that's a fucking surprise_  
_thank you so much phichit_  
_I didnt know u were such a shitty friend_

 

_I didn't know u were either_  
_it only surprises me because it's otabek_

_____Yuri doesn't know what to think of this exchange. His and Otabek's relationship surprises Phichit to the point of making him forget his chatty, friendly self to drop barely formed accusations on Yuri's lap. Yuri doesn't know what to say to him and rereads their conversation. He doesn't like not having the last word, but his phone dies and he's left with no option._ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find all the material for the fic in my blog [@notyourusualfairytale-au](https://notyourusualfairytale-au.tumblr.com/), along with the photosets(❤️) made by the sisters up there and also the special drabbles I write for +50 followers (I owe you another one btw). Thanks for reading! :)


	20. Chapter 20 - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to arrange this into a two parts chapter because there are still things I want to add but I still want to post this. Also: made up a lot of original characters but I can't bother with names. Anyway, enjoy!

"And he didn't even- you know?" Yuri complains, shaving one leg, propped on the bath's edge. "He said I was a shitty friend!" 

Otabek, toothbrush in his mouth, glances at Yuri. He's been listening to Yuri's outburst ever since they woke up from their nap. They'll leave for the festival in a while, and Yuri has been getting ready for at least the past hour, ranting all along as he paced from the bed to the bathroom, then to his baggage and to the bathroom again. Otabek doesn't like giving inputs into his personal life, into no one's actually, and though he wants to take Yuri's side he doesn't want to do so by agreeing that Phichit is a) a piece of shit b) a total fucker c) a brainless idiot who thinks licking Mila's shoes will get him anywhere, which, it seems, is what Yuri wants to hear from him. 

"As though I'd fucking know why Mila decided to take her ass off to the other side of the fucking planet," Yuri grumbles, throwing his hair over his shoulder as he dips his leg under the showerhead. 

Otabek hums and spits into the sink. 

"You're overly silent about this," Yuri throws at him, squinting over his shoulder. Otabek pauses. "Don't you think he's an asshole too? You should defend me, you're my boyfriend." 

"Yeah," Otabek puts his toothbrush away, "but that's between you and him." 

"Well, he fucking mentioned you too. He said he was impressed you were with me because I've always been a bitch and you've always been like, a fucking gentleman or some shit." 

Otabek sighs. "Look, Yura, don't mind him. He's obviously confused." 

"Confused? He is confused? _I_ am fucking confused, Otabek," Yuri pouts, ranting on a lower tone as he begins washing himself. 

Otabek stands for a minute at the center of the bathroom, watching Yuri searchingly. "Didn't Mila tell you anything?" 

"What?" Yuri glances at him. "Didn't you hear me? She stopped talking to me out of the blue. I thought she was tired or whatever. Anyway, I don't give a fuck anymore." 

Otabek frowns, and seems on the verge of opening his mouth to say something when his phone rings. He goes back to the bedroom to get it and Yuri finishes his shower in silence, only his thoughts running around wildly inside his mind. He dries himself when done and puts on his boxers and jeans, getting his heavy make-up bag from his things and sorting them out on the bathroom sink. Otabek appears by the doorway to inform that they have half an hour before the car shows up to take them and Yuri makes an agreeable sound. 

His hair falls around his face in glossy locks and it looks so nice that he refrains from braiding it back. He puts on a black crop top and grabs his sunglasses ([Yuri here](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/e0/2d/db/e02ddb54ae1c55fd068c62b4f7f0809d.jpg)) before meeting Otabek at the bedroom, where he's ready, in his leather jacket, fingerless gloves and a white undershirt ([Otabek here](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/75/81/cc/7581cc49af53033667e4b0beb25ab8e1.jpg)). 

"Don't you own any other clothes?" Yuri frowns, throwing his things somewhere nearby his baggage. 

Otabek looks up from his phone. "Hn?" 

"Every time I see you you're wearing that same combination." 

Otabek gaps like a fish out of water. "Well," he looks wildly around the room, "I didn't bring any thing other than this so." 

"Let me see," Yuri goes to his boyfriend's bag. It is, unsurprisingly, untidy because they had been practically living together and he could already tell Otabek wasn't as organized as he looked like, except with his mixing equipment. As it seems, he isn't very adventurous with his clothes either. Everything he owns is some variation of dark green, dark blue, black, gray and white. "You seriously need to go shopping for new stuff." 

Otabek shrugs, "my clothes are fine." 

"They are, but they have no personality," Yuri insists, and then sighs. "Sorry, this thing with Phichit has left me a bit cranky." 

Otabek gives a small smile. "I'm sorry about that." 

Yuri drops on the bed next to him, supporting his head on Otabek's shoulder. 

"You look beautiful, by the way," Otabek comments, gaze going up and down Yuri's body. Yuri's lips quirk up. 

"Do I? Will I make your fans jealous?" He asks, and then drapes his arms around Otabek's neck. "I won't leave your fucking arm for a fucking second." 

Otabek groans and ducks to kiss him. 

 

\- 

 

"Do you have a flying kink or some shit?" Yuri shouts over the wind and the whir of the engine. There's a fucking helicopter waiting to take them to the festival. A girl with a badge hanging around her neck and an earpiece gives him a frothy look. She steers them towards the aircraft, ignoring the way Yuri screeches and tries to keep his hair in place against the wind. Heck, he should've braided it. He's at least glad he'd taken his sunglasses because the sun is high in the sky. Otabek looks unmoved, a hand on the small of Yuri's back as they cross the heliport. 

There are four seats inside the helicopter and they all have to duck to get inside it and sit. The girl shuts the door after them and types something on her phone. "Mr Altin, I'll be taking you and your guest to the Ultra Music Festival site. We should be there in less than five minutes." 

Yuri's head whips to face Otabek. "Why didn't you feel the need to tell me you were playing at Ultra?" 

Otabek shrugs. He seems to be staring at the name tag on the girl's breast. 

"Is your name Aisha? It is my sister's name too," Otabek comments, getting the protective ear muffs she offers them and handing one to Yuri. 

Aisha smiles, "really? Cool." 

Yuri squints at her. Otabek is normally a nice guy so people could get the wrong impression. Not to mention she was blond, which was always dangerous. He puts the earmuffs on and tightens his seatbelt when Aisha tells them to, turning on her seat to shout at the conductor. The engine whirrs and Yuri clutches Otabek's arm when he feels the floor leaving them. 

Differently from an airplane, Yuri has an idea of the dimension of the aircraft, small and light as it soars through the sky. It takes a while for him to get used to it but once he does he looks down at the city, gray little boxes and then rectangular farmlands. Otabek is talking to the girl and nodding along as she explains the details to their arrival. 

Yuri uses the moment to take his phone from his pocket and snap a selfie. He looks horrible with earmuffs on because they make his head feel heavy and his ears seems giant but it's good enough.

####  **@yuri-plisetsky** : _Beka got me a helicopter <3 #bitchesgonnaflip #noshit #itsborrowed_

It doesn't take long until Yuri can spot the crowd from the window, a bunch of tiny ants pressed together or walking around in lazy paces. The stage seems like a black box where they crowd around, the grass pale green in the spots they don't occupy. 

"Beka, Beka, look," Yuri pulls on his boyfriend's arm. Otabek leans over him to see and gives a small smile, seemingly more endeared by Yuri's enthusiasm than the dozens of thousands of people waiting to hear him play later. But of course, he must get this all the time. 

Yuri's been to festivals before, but he'd never approached from a helicopter. The aircraft loses altitude and for a moment they get really close to the crowd, that waves blindly at them, probably already knowing a new musician had arrived. Yuri feels giddy and excited when they land smoothly. Aisha opens the door to them and Yuri follows Otabek out, handing his earmuffs back and thanking her. 

They walk through the makeshift heliport towards the place where a lot of staff are walking about, a few waiting for them. Otabek leads him by the hand, backpack slung over his shoulder. A guy greets them and leads them towards a lot of ways that Yuri can't keep track of. 

There are a lot of cables that he has to step out of the way of and the blaring of music from the main stage. Whoever is playing is getting the crowd to scream and it makes the atmosphere so palpably energetic that it has Yuri wanting to be in there, among them. Instead Otabek is nodding along to several people as they pass them, some stepping back to film them or snap pictures. Yuri tries not to grimace and follows on Otabek's heels. 

An important looking guy shakes hands with Otabek when they are led towards a trailer. He introduces himself as the director of the festival, and doesn't bat an eyelash when his eyes drift to Yuri. 

"Yuri Plisetsky, of course," he extends his hand which Yuri promptly shakes, trying not to look too taken aback, "a pleasure to have you here. A good luck charm for your boyfriend, I suppose," he laughs. Yuri gives a small chuckle and nods back at him, sidling up to Otabek. "I'll show you inside now," he says, and two other staff members open the door to the trailer and begin offering them anything to drink or eat. 

Yuri snatches a kit kat from a nearby table that is brimming with food while Otabek sets his equipment down on the coffee table. The director explains to them - more to Otabek, really – how long they have until Otabek's performance comes up and other intricacies about the management of the main stage. 

Yuri drops down on the leather couch next to Otabek, glancing at his computer screen while the director goes on. 

"Well, you've worked with us before so you should know how it works," he says to Otabek, and then smiles to Yuri, "Yuri, it really is an honor. My daughter is your fan." 

"Nice," Yuri smiles, not really knowing how else to say. 

"She's walking around somewhere. Probably going to ask you for a selfie later." 

"Oh, sure." 

He says his goodbyes and leaves them. Otabek is focused on his computer and Yuri lays his head on his shoulder. "Nervous?" He asks, and Otabek shrugs. 

"A little, yeah," he types some more and turns to Yuri, "you can watch the other shows too if you want. You don't need to keep trapped inside with me." 

"Ow, that's a nice way of ditching me." 

"Yura," Otabek opens his mouth to retort, but then there's a knock on the metal door. 

"Hey, Beka!" Someone calls out and Otabek gets to his feet to open the door. He's immediately swarmed by two guys who step inside and pat his back loudly, making a ruckus as they greet Otabek. Yuri remains stock still on the couch, giving a small grin when they nod his way. 

One of them, a man in a black long-sleeved shirt and a jeans cap, tilts his head in Yuri's direction. "This the wife?" 

Otabek mumbles something that sounds a lot like 'fuck off' and the guy bursts out laughing, stepping up to offer his hand to Yuri. "Nice to meet you, Yuri. I bet Beka here hasn't told you but we've played together some times. He's had the hots for you ever since I've known him, just so you know." 

Otabek blushes furiously, carding a hand up and down his hair as he shakes his head and tries to tell Yuri it wasn't true. The other guy, brown-haired and mousy, laughs along. They're a loud bunch, Yuri realizes, and they all seem to be DJs like Otabek. Something in the way they walk, talk, even the way they speak gives it away. 

Yuri shakes hands with the man, who he founds out is named Craig. Yuri internally calls him Jerk though, because his first impression wasn't very good. The other guy is named something that Yuri doesn't understand, but he's got dreadlocks and Yuri internally calls him Bob. A girl Yuri hadn't noticed before stands next to him, next to another, dirty blond and slim. They seem to be groupies but Yuri finds out they're actually Bob and Jerk's respective girlfriends. 

The first one is black-haired and wears a floral print playsuit. She has a strange laugh and clings to her boyfriend's arm. Her name is Helen but Yuri internally calls her Hyena. Because of the laughter. Hyena and her friend seem impressed by Yuri and ask him for a couple selfies that he agrees with. Otabek is busy enough with his friends. They'd apparently already played at the festival and were taking a look at Otabek's set, talking in a language full of technical jargons that neither Yuri nor the girls understand. 

Hyena invites Yuri outside, so they can go and 'have a bit more fun without the guys'. Yuri agrees because Otabek isn't letting that computer go in a while and he wants to hang out. 

The place where they were at was behind the main stage though the sound was a bit more muffled. The crows seems to be at the other side of it, and with them all the attractions. 

"How long have you and Otabek been together?" Hyena asks him over the music. 

"Two months," he responds, and Hyena nods. 

"I had a feeling. Beka is very private," she says, and leads them to a place lined by grids before Yuri can ask further questions. The bouncers give them a tag that they sling around their necks, bright yellow and garish. It's supposed to be a vip pass, and Yuri follows Hyena and the other girl, Maiko, until they're amidst the other bodies. 

People are jumping next to the stage, whooping and calling out to whoever is on it, a Korean guy that delivers some encouraging words in a completely flat tone every once in a while. His music is a contrast to him, fun and enticing. 

At the outskirts of the show though, other people are walking about with colorful plastic glasses and a lazy gait, always in a tight group of friends or with a significant other. 

Hyena points at something at the far end and they spend the next hour exploring the festival. Yuri gets a water bottle and is teased by the girls, who all get beers themselves. Halfway back they start complaining about their boyfriends. They seem to have known each other for very long and Yuri supposes they always tagged along to their boyfriend's work. He isn't very intimate but they're fun enough so he lets them be. 

"And you, Yuri? Any complaints on Otabek yet?" Maiko asks, sipping from her beer as they walk. 

"Hn, not really. He's good to me." 

"Awn, you guys are so cute together," Hyena coos, and then gives that horrible mix of chuckle and laugh. 

"Otabek really is a sweetheart," Maiko says, and then tenses a bit, giving Yuri a wary glance, "I mean, he's a nice guy. Always too distant though. Not my type," she gives a nervous chuckle. 

"Yeah, he's silent as fuck," Yuri says, deciding not to comment. "And when we were on our way here, fuck, he wouldn't drop that computer." 

Hyena gasps. "I know totally what you mean!" And Maiko also asserts her understanding. "I know it's his job, you know," she says to Yuri, who nods, "but we've gone like," she looks around, lowering her voice, "two months without sex." 

Maiko shrieks beside Yuri. 

Hyena blushes, but goes on. "It's terrible. I don't know if he's getting it somewhere else, but sometimes it seems like he isn't paying any attention to me." 

Maiko says something else to corroborate how she feels towards her boyfriend's career and the amount of time it leaves her with. She mentions another friend of theirs who'd apparently gotten married to another guy who was also a DJ, and her story isn't nice. Forgotten somewhere inside a house taking care of an infant while her husband flew around the world. 

"But you don't have to worry about it, sweetheart," Hyena appeases Yuri, whose eyes have gone wide with horror. "You have a high-flying job yourself and Otabek seems to be very attentive." 

"Yeah, it's too early to worry about those things already," Maiko snickers, "and if you do you'll go mad and give up halfway." 

Yuri doesn't know what they mean but he gets a very clear semblance of them. Their jobs _are_ being girlfriends. Of course they fought for their attention and got mad when they didn't get it. They had nothing else to occupy themselves with and seemed to think Yuri was becoming one of them now that he was dating Otabek. Not that it made them any lesser than him. But it was a different reality. Yuri's career was his top priority. It was something he'd fought tooth and nail for and he wouldn't give it up even if things took a turn for the worst with Otabek. But it is, like Hyena had said, better not to think about those things now. 

They flash their passes to the bouncer when they arrive at the edge of the grids again, ignoring the horde of fans waiting to get a glimpse or an autograph of their superstars. Yuri doesn't know the way back to Otabek's trailer but Hyena leads the way to her boyfriend's. His equipment is all over the place and Yuri makes a face but doesn't comment. He's probably still in the trailer with Otabek and the other guy, and Hyena produces face paint out of bag on the floor. 

Maiko shrieks – she likes to do that a lot – and looks a design up on her phone, showing it to Hyena, who sets about applying the paint to her face. Yuri drops on the couch and gets a protein bar from the table, pulling out his own cell phone when it vibrates in his pocket. 

_Having fun?_ , it's Otabek. 

_they r a loud bunch..._  
_but they r alrght I suppose_ , Yuri answers. 

_Sorry for leaving you. Where you at?_

_at the jerk's trailer_

_Who?_

_the jerk that said I was ur wife earlier_

_Oh. Sorry about that too._  
_I can send someone to show you the way back here if you'd like._  
_My gig starts in about one hour._

_k_ , Yuri types back, and is dragged out of his phone by Maiko's screech. She's looking at herself on the mirror. Hyena had made a string of purple flowers around one of her eyes. It even looked nice. 

"Come on, Yuri, let me do yours," Hyena motions to the chair in front of her that Maiko was previously occupying. She's now pouting at her phone and taking several selfies. 

"Uh, I don't think-" 

"Come on, you'll like it, I promise! Beka's show is next, you'll look pretty for him," Hyena insists. 

Bitch, I'm always pretty, Yuri thinks, but takes the seat on the chair and tells her to do whatever. It's not any different than getting his make-up done by strangers, except Maiko gives several inputs until they finally come to an agreement. When Hyena hands her pocket mirror to him, Yuri is impressed. 

She'd done a mix of pink, yellow and blue swabs coated with a string of golden stars next to his right eye. 

"Wow," Maiko gasps, "Yuri, you're so beautiful." 

 

\- 

 

When Yuri gets back to the trailer Otabek's friends had already left. His boyfriend is checking his phone on the couch, and does a double-take when Yuri steps in. 

"Did-" he begins, lifting a finger to indicate Yuri's face. 

"Yes, the Hyena did this." 

Otabek frowns. "Hyena?" 

Yuri sprawls on the couch next to him. "Yeah, the girl with the hysterical laugh." 

Otabek's frown breaks apart. "Oh. So you noticed that." 

Yuri chuckles, "who wouldn't?". He crawls towards Otabek, to lie with his head on his thigh. 

Otabek puts his phone away, cupping Yuri's face on both his hands and swirling his thumbs over his cheeks. Yuri purrs happily. 

"It's beautiful," he says softly to Yuri's lips. 

Yuri groans, nipping at his bottom lip to bring him down, hand hooked on his neck. Otabek tastes like kit kat, and Yuri pulls away for a second to point it out. Otabek responds by ducking to lick at his lip, sucking on his tongue and just generally making Yuri squirm in agony on the couch. 

They make out for a while longer, kisses growing headier until Yuri pulls Otabek back by the ears. "When does your show start?" He asks, breathing stuttering when Otabek sets to mouthing and nipping at his neck. 

"Don't know," he answers against his skin, "but we should probably go." 

"Yeah," Yuri agrees, but they continue making out on the couch. Otabek's hands always travel a lot, but now he hooks his thumbs on Yuri's waist, palming at his flat belly and the hard muscle there. Yuri hums, scratching at Otabek's undercut the way he used to do, shamefully, to pet Clawdia. 

Otabek moans, head falling back while Yuri uses the opportunity to suck and kiss his throat. He could leave a mark there. He probably should too. So that everyone screaming outside knew Yuri was here, that Otabek was taken. But he didn't. Mostly because it didn't feel right to inflict this upon Otabek. Yuri wouldn't like to be given a hickey before going into a show either. 

Otabek slams his lips against Yuri's, fisting a handful of his hair to bring him up. Yuri hisses accordingly, watching with half-lidded eyes as Otabek bit and pulled on his lower lip. He feels hands squeezing his ass and his lips tug in a smile. 

"Remember when we made out like this on my couch?" Yuri asks. 

Otabek groans in response, hands on Yuri's hips now to bring him further into his lap. Yuri doesn't know if he had any idea that by doing so he was situating Yuri over his crotch but Otabek didn't seem bothered by the realization if it ever struck him. "How could I forget? I just wanted to ravish you all the time." 

"Yeah? My number one fan? Had the hots for me before you knew me. Hm, dirty. Did you jerk off to me? I knew it." 

"Forget about-" Otabek gasps, "Forget about that." 

"Never," Yuri bit on his earlobe. "Now let's go." 

"Yura," Otabek prevents him from going, hands settled on Yuri's hips. 

"Bekaa," Yuri mimicks, and rolls his hips down once. Otabek gasps, eyes shutting. "You sure you can do me in under five minutes?" 

"Okay," Otabek sighs, but seems to be thinking twice as he doesn't let go of Yuri's hips. He breathes in once more. "Okay," he repeats to himself, "let's go." 

 

\- 

 

Yuri had been on stages before. Various. But he'd never been on a motherfucking festival's stage. He _wasn't_ , per see, the main attraction. He wasn't even supposed to be. The Korean guy was on his last song though, and he and Otabek were backstage along with a couple more staff people. 

Otabek hadn't seemed nervous before. He'd seemed more secluded than usual but now Yuri could see the energy of the crowd was finally getting to him. He paced and rechecked his gloves for no reason, asked the sound guy countless questions and darts his eyes all over the place. 

"Is he always like this?" Yuri asks the Jerk, who was leaning against a sound box, a beer in hand. 

He nods. "It used to be worse." 

Yuri got jitters too, before stepping into the catwalk. But then again his performance didn't last more than two minutes at most. He didn't play fucking music for two fucking hours or more for dozens of thousands of people. "That's... intense," he mumbles and Jerk nods in agreement. 

Otabek comes to a stop in front of him, hands settled on his hips as he watches something above Yuri's hair. It's a screen connected to the main camera system of the festival, and it shows the extension of the crowd when it roars in response to the Korean's taunts. Yuri can feel the noise all around his body, seeping into his bones. This is insane. How can Otabek do this? 

"They'll go crazy for you, man," the Jerk comments to Otabek, who groans and paces some more. 

Yuri elbows the Jerk and gives him a look that is supposed to shut him up before grabbing Otabek by the collar of his leather jacket and pulling him closer. "Relax," he says through gritted teeth, staring Otabek in the eye. "You're leaving _me_ fucking nervous." 

"Sorry," Otabek licks his lips, eyes once more darting to the screen above Yuri's head. 

"Hey, you've got this," Yuri assures him. "You ride a motorcycle and you're the fucking biggest DJ out there-" 

"Hey," the Jerk intervenes. 

"Fuck off, you know it's true," Yuri turns on him to say. He gives a small grin and doesn't say anything. Yuri turns back to Otabek. "And you're my fucking boyfriend too, so if you fail this I'll dump you." 

Otabek chuckles warmly, resting his forehead on Yuri's shoulder. "Oh, Yura, that's... encouraging. Thank you." 

"Yeah. You can bet it fucking is." 

Behind them the crowd roars once more when the Korean's set finishes. He's speaking into his microphone and thanking everyone for the wonderful night and so on. Yuri lets Otabek rest against him and watches the screen where the Korean waves a last goodbye before stepping out of the stage. 

Not five seconds later he appears backstage, receiving pats on the back and a couple more compliments from the lingering staff and his management. His face remains rather placid, expressionless even, as he uncaps a water bottle and drinks from it. He approaches them and receives more hearty pats on the shoulders by the Jerk and Bob. 

"Otabek," he says, and his eyes flit to Yuri once before focusing on Otabek again. "Good luck." 

Otabek breaks away from Yuri. "Thanks, Lee." 

He nods once and doesn't say anything else before stepping away. A few meters over a reporter is holding her microphone and is apparently doing a live coverage of the event. She asks Lee a couple questions that he answers monotonically before giving a straining smile and thanking him. She turns back to her camera. "Next is the most awaited for tonight, Otabek Altin. We'll go back to our studio and come back in a few minutes." She wraps up. 

Otabek is cracking his fingers and taking cursory looks around, but now that it's clear that he'll be taking the stage no matter what he seems to be more in his element, eyes dark and focused. A guy from the staff takes his equipment to the stage and gets everything plugged. Otabek nods along to everything he says, and Yuri only hears the last part when he wishes Otabek good luck with a pat to the shoulder. 

Yuri plays with the string of his vip pass and checks his social accounts, where the photo he'd taken earlier, face painted and hair flipped to one side is getting increasingly more likes and comments. He'd tagged the festival so everybody already knew he was here with Otabek. 

They wait a couple more minutes on which the crowd starts chanting something that resembles Otabek's name. Yuri has never felt so nervous but so proud at someone else's behalf like he does now. 

"You going in now?" Yuri asks when a guy with an earpiece shows up to steer Otabek in the direction of the stage. 

Otabek nods. "Just one thing," he holds up a finger. 

Yuri rolls his eyes. "I know it already," and kisses him hard on the lips. "Good luck. I'll be watching you," and points at his own eye pointedly. Otabek smiles and steps onto the stage. There's an intro song playing and a lot of smoke but when the camera makes out Otabek's silhouette behind the mixing table there's a palpable roar from the crowd. 

Yuri's at the side of the stage and though the crowd doesn't get to see him he gets to see Otabek. And he looks gorgeous. Memorable, a god of music against the lights and the sound of screams. There's no other place for him to be at than there, Yuri can feel it. Because when Otabek's music starts playing people lose their shit. And if he sounded good before, tonight he sounds way better. 

He doesn't even start off slow, but that's probably because none of Otabek's music is _slow_. They change beats and drops but they never stall unless it is to build a rhythm. 

Yuri leans against an unused sound box and watches him, accepting the bottle of something alcoholic Jerk hands to him. The girls have come back too, a bit tipsy but still sober. They dance and pull Yuri to join them. Yuri is not yet drunk enough to do so though he knows no one's watching other than the sound guys that occasionally kneel to adjust more cables. 

"He's good, hn?" Bob asks him over the music. 

Yuri nods though he hadn't heard the question well. 

"He's growing, Beka. I always knew he was different, you know?" Bob continues, "He's the best out there already and what, twenty-six?" 

"Twenty-five," Yuri shouts over the music, sipping from his drink. It burns down his throat and leave a tingling sensation down his body. The sky has started to darken and Yuri is glad Otabek'd lent him a spare jacket of his otherwise he would be freezing, though by the sound and look of it the crowd was burning. 

Bob watches Otabek with a considerate gaze. "Boy, you've got yourself a catch," he nudges Yuri playfully. 

Yuri laughs and downs more of his drink. He can feel Otabek every once in a while glancing at him but the gaze never seems to last long. 

Yuri doesn't know how much time goes by but it has to be at least an hour before Otabek speaks into his microphone during the slow build of one of his music, one of Yuri's favorites. "England, it's an honor to be playing for you tonight. Are you having a good night?" His voice sounds smoother amplified, and though his tone doesn't change there's still something electric when he speaks over his own music that Yuri is sure he isn't the only one feeling. He waits until the crowd roars in response before continuing, "I'm having a good night too," and then he glances at Yuri. Almost imperceptibly, but he does. And then he drops the bass and Yuri loses some of his rationality for a moment. 

This time when the girls pull him to dance Yuri goes. It's only the three of them dancing separately while Hyena shouts something at him that Yuri doesn't understand but takes to be a compliment to Otabek's music. Bob gets some water for them and Yuri sips from it happily, waiting until one of Otabek's slower, more sensuous music comes up to dance and shake his hips. The tune follows its perfect, smooth rhythm until falling on a beat that wasn't supposed to be there. It was a small mistake that no one who wasn't familiar with the music would have noticed. But Yuri now has a feeling that at least ninety percent of the people on this fucking place were Otabek's fans given the sheer amount of noise they made so he wasn't probably the only one to notice. 

Otabek's voice breaks Yuri out of his music induced trance. "Sorry, guys, but there's someone really beautiful here dancing backstage and I got distracted." The crowd responds with a roar, as it seems they always do to anything. 

Yuri flushes to his core and the girls pause on their dancing to tease him while some raucous laughter follows somewhere farther backstage. "Oh, fuck off," Yuri grumbles good-naturedly, and waits until Otabek has taken another glance at him to wink his way. Not that he'd gotten to see it. 

The rest of the show progresses much in the same manner although Otabek doesn't make any more mistakes. Yuri still feels like he could run a marathon and keep dancing all night when Otabek starts saying his goodbyes. "Ultra Music Festival, it's been a wonderful night," the crowd roars, "thank you all so much. This is the last one," his finger slips and the beat grows increasingly different. The crowd boos in retaliation. "You don't like this one?" They make a cacophony of voices no one can understand, "do you want another?" They roar again, possibly louder than the music because Yuri is sure he can't hear the ringing in his own ears. "It's been more than two hours," Otabek reasons. They make loud, disappointed moans. "Are you guys even tired?" He asks with a hint of amusement. 

Yuri gets the feeling they respond in loud negatives. "All right then," Otabek says. They shout. "You know, my boyfriend's been teaching me how to curse," Yuri instantly freezes. "So I think I should give you another one because you've been a hell of a motherfucking crowd tonight." 

They roar some more at that and Yuri laughs to himself. Okay, he can be held responsible for that. 

True to his word Otabek plays another music for them. It's clearly a closing music, slow and meaningful but never losing its captivating beat. And Yuri hadn't realized it earlier, but it's completely dark out already and Otabek's has to be the closing show for the night. For the festival apparently, as fireworks begin setting off somewhere in the vicinity. Yuri aims his phone to record the moment, the bright colors exploding and the bashful response of the audience, Otabek's music playing in the background. 

"Thank you so much for this incredible night," Otabek speaks. His forehead is shiny with sweat, hair disheveled. "We'll see each other again. Hopefully, soon. Good night, everybody. Make a safe way back home." 

The crowd roars, but it's more in gratitude than raw craziness. Yuri spots a couple heart hands amidst the audience, displayed on the big screen on the stage. 

Otabek ducks out of the stage before the last notes and the last fireworks. The camera man from the big screen follows him and Yuri doesn't get to him immediately. Instead the director claps his back and says something to him, followed by a couple of his DJ friends and then Yuri, who he pulls into a big French kiss. 

Yuri doesn't know if the camera has followed him this far but by the noise of the crowd he's fairly certain it had. "Have fun?" Otabek asks when they break apart, arm still slung around Yuri with all he had. Yuri does nothing more than nod, still a bit shaken. He feels something immense for Otabek, for the way he looks down at him, eyes dark but brimming with something that is more than feral. Yuri feels something that he links to the desire of having Otabek's babies. Or some shit like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Otabek's last music is [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OOevVQwQ-LM). I know nothing about this festival whatsoever, it was just the first name that came up in Google. 
> 
> Thank you so much to [raikovart](https://raikovart.tumblr.com/) for the [wonderful art](https://raikovart.tumblr.com/post/160957754070/not-your-usual-love-story) for the story. Go check out her works, they're incredible!


	21. Chapter 20 - Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big chapter to get things back in motion. Also, this might be considered the Ultimate Chapter as it holds what a lot of people have been anxious to know about, according to the comments. Hope you like it!

Yuri didn't have much to drink but he can't stop snickering like a lovesick girl. The festival has theoretically ended but there are still people milling about and making their slow way back home. Backstage, the stage crew is taking cables out and disconnecting the most manageable parts of the stage. Otabek still has an arm slung around his waist and Yuri is still sat on a random amp. Otabek's fellow DJ friends seem to be in a similar state as Yuri, but none have a crazy hot boyfriend that is standing between his legs and whispering very naughty things in his ear every once in a while. 

Yuri feels sweaty, but the good kind of sweaty, that makes the skin of his bare arms cling to the leather of Otabek's jacket where Yuri has his arms wrapped around his neck. That has his body shivering whenever a breeze hits harder and Otabek instinctively presses him closer to his chest. 

"You were amazing there," Yuri says, for what seems to be the hundredth time. Otabek responds the same way, with a drawn-out sound that has his chest vibrating and a kiss that he plants behind Yuri's ear. 

"Thanks, kitten," he grumbles, and then bites at Yuri's earlobe. Yuri hums in pleasure, trapping his face between his hands to bring him down to his lips. Yuri rakes his nails down the buzzed part of Otabek's undercut. He does love doing that, and Otabek appreciates it too, with the way he purrs and delves his tongue deeper into Yuri's mouth. 

Yuri squeezes him between his thighs in reflex, letting his head be nudged and lolled to the side by the splay of Otabek's hand on his neck, his thumb rubbing at his cheek. Yuri sucks his tongue into his mouth, and when they run out of breath, they pull back. 

Yuri licks the string of saliva that connects their lips, grinning up at Otabek with kiss-swollen lips. "Hi," he makes. 

Otabek chuckles, nuzzling the slope of Yuri's cheek. "Are you drunk?" 

"Nooo," Yuri drawls, and then laughs at Otabek's unbelieving face, "I'm not, I'm just-" 

"Hn?" 

"Alive," he says, and then frowns at how dumb that sounds. Otabek finds it funny though, because he chuckles and then dips his head to kiss him again. Yuri moans into it, palming the back of his neck. 

"Get a room you two," someone leers, and then immediately laughs at their own joke. 

"We would if we could," Yuri grunts when they break apart yet again. Otabek shakes his head and surprisingly, steps back. Yuri misses his warmth right away. "Where-" he starts, but Otabek nudges his knee. 

"Back to my trailer. Come on, I'll get my things and we can go to the hotel," Otabek explains, and Yuri grumbles when he's made to stand up. 

"I can't get up," he whines, and someone else laughs and seems to tease him before Otabek offers him his back. 

"Poor kitten," he says, and cups the back of Yuri's knees to bracket his sides. Yuri instantly clings to his neck, feeling dizzy and yelping when Otabek hitches him up. 

"Are you giving me a piggy-back ride?" 

"You wouldn't move any other way," Otabek says, and Yuri can feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest. Purring, Yuri nuzzles the back of Otabek's neck and smiles into it. 

"Did you watch me dancing?" Yuri asks, tightening his grasp when there's a bump. 

Otabek puffs, "of course, kitten. You looked like an angel." 

"Hmm, a dancing angel," Yuri giggles. He's sounding stupid, he knows that, but he's deactivated his brain-to-mouth filter and it'll take a good fuck and long night's sleep for him to turn it back on. 

Otabek gently sets him down on the sofa when they arrive at the trailer. He then starts speaking on his phone with someone in broken English before nudging a bottle cold water Yuri's way. Yuri takes a sip and lets his head loll back into the cushion. Otabek hangs up and takes a seat on the sofa, Yuri can feel it dipping. 

When Yuri looks up it is to find Otabek's face looming over his. He spans big fingers down the side of Yuri's cheek, up to the corner of his eye. "Who drew this on you?" He asks, and his voice sounds softer up close. 

"One of the girls," Yuri mumbles, closing his fingers around Otabek's, "I don't remember her name though." 

"Hm," Otabek makes, "it looks good on you." 

"Thanks," Yuri bares his teeth in a smile. Next thing he knows Otabek is kissing him again, but this time softer, sweeter. 

"They're sending someone to pick us up," Otabek speaks, "Think you can handle another helicopter ride?" 

Yuri groans. 

 

\- 

 

Yuri stays glued to Otabek's side as they enter the hotel. The receptionist hands Otabek his key card without a word being exchanged, and wishes them a good night. When the elevator doors close, Yuri turns on Otabek's arms, leaning into him and causing them to crash against the wall. Yuri laughs and all Otabek does is kiss his neck, hand sliding up his sides hotly. 

Otabek gingerly takes Yuri's hands away from his jeans where he'd been pushing the heel of his hand into the slowly growing bulge on his pants. "We've- uh-" he starts, pointing at the open doors. 

"Oh," Yuri laughs as they clamber up inside the room. There's a sitting room with plush leather chairs and yellow lighting but Yuri doesn't get to see much of it because as soon as the heavy door shuts they're clinging to each other. "I've been-" Yuri arches into the bite Otabek places on his shoulder, frowning and whining before Otabek pushes him against the door. "Ouch," he makes, and bites his own tongue when Otabek squeezes him between the door and his chest, clutching at his thighs and pulling him up in a single go. "Jesus Ch-" Yuri hisses, loving the feel of Otabek's hot length already nudging his own through their clothes. 

Otabek steals his breath, slamming their mouths together roughly. Yuri moans, grinding back against Otabek's hips when he bites down on his lower lip. A hot current of arousal flashes down Yuri's back, and he keeps Otabek's head firmly in place as they kiss, hot and hungry for the feel of his tongue, teeth clacking. 

Otabek throws him on his back on the mattress. Yuri hadn't even realized he'd been walking, but he spreads his own legs wantonly and watches Otabek under his eyelashes. His boyfriend is looking down at him like he's a feast that he's ready to pounce on. 

Otabek takes his leather jacket off slowly and Yuri bites his bottom lip, twisting on the sheets to tease him. Otabek crawls to occupy the space between his legs and Yuri tips his chin up to kiss him, clawing at his clothed ass to bring him down and closer. He can already feel slick between his own cheeks, his cock tenting the front of his pants. 

The room is filled with their heavy breathing and the wet sounds of their kisses, and soon enough Otabek scurries down his body. He leaves a wet trail down Yuri's neck, sliding his hands between their bodies to unbuckle his belt and pop Yuri's button open. Yuri whines, bunching the material of Otabek's shirt and inching it up his back. 

Yuri shouts, and for a moment he clenches down around nothing in his pants when Otabek bites at one of his nipples. The sight of it is addictive, his head working around Yuri's nipples, crop top bunched up. He teases the other with his finger, sliding the edge of his nail right where Yuri is more sensitive. 

"Bastard-" Yuri breathes with difficulty, arching his back to offer his boyfriend more of his nipples. Otabek agrees with an amused groan, letting up for a moment so Yuri can slide his shirt up his chest. 

"I've been hot to fuck you," Otabek says between breaths, insistently pulling Yuri's pants down, "since I saw you dancing." 

"Yeah?" Yuri smiles to the ceiling, humming in contentment when his pants are shoved away and Otabek's hand goes to tease his dick. He then remembers his favorite feature on Otabek's body and forces the waistband of Otabek's pants down in retaliation. He can see the huge tent it's already making and grins. "What have you been hiding down there?" 

Otabek groans, lapping at his belly button and bucking up instinctively when Yuri wraps a hand around his cock. "Fuck," he lets out, and urges Yuri to turn on his side. 

"Ah, ouch, are you sure?" Yuri asks, but doesn't expect to receive a coherent answer when he obliges and turns onto his stomach. His dick lays forgotten between his own belly and the mattress, but Yuri cants his hips up when Otabek slides his underwear down his thighs. "I'm wet already, you don't- shit! Oh god!" 

Yuri pants into the mattress, fisting the sheets and whining incoherently at the feel of Otabek's tongue, lapping up his rim. He's never liked being eaten out, correction: he _loves_ being eaten out, but with his past partners he usually couldn't work up around how disgusting it really was to really enjoy it. With Otabek it's not like that. He normally takes Yuri by surprise when doing it, probably because he's already noticed that if he were to tell him Yuri would know what to expect and would cringe or flinch. When it's like that, though, Otabek's hands spreading his cheeks as far as he can, hot tongue delving into Yuri's slick arsehole, all Yuri feels is mind-blowing pleasure that makes his dick twitch. Thinking about Otabek's face stuck between his ass makes Yuri go crazy. 

Yuri doesn't know how much time they spend like this, but his cock is already red, leaking, his balls drawing up. When the feeling of Otabek's mouth leaves him Yuri turns to look at him over his shoulder. Otabek is licking his lips and drying his chin with his forearm. He looks drunk and Yuri feels like he's touching heaven. 

"That taste good?" Yuri grins, just because he wants to be a little shit. 

Otabek's response is the darkening of his eyes, and then inching up the bed to try and kiss Yuri. 

"Fuck, no, hold on," Yuri twists his head to the side. Ew. 

Otabek chuckles darkly against his shoulder. "I kiss you after you've gone down on me." 

"That's different," Yuri croons, and grins when he hears the sound of Otabek's zipper. "Do you want me like this? Or doggy?" He asks over his shoulder, shivering at the contact of Otabek's hands securing his hips in place. 

"Up to you," Otabek mumbles, pumping his own cock before sliding a finger inside Yuri. 

It takes him by surprise, and Yuri yelps. "Fuck, warn a man," he groans, dragging the bedsheets down with his fists. He's slick enough that they can do it without the lube, though Yuri wouldn't say no were it to magically appear. Otabek soon inserts another one, going by Yuri's moans and whines, scissoring him open. He's in a hurry, Yuri can tell. They like it rough sometimes and Otabek is being as gentle as he can, given the circumstances. 

"You good?" Otabek asks from his behind, slapping his cheek. Yuri hisses, dick throbbing between his legs. He nods, and gets on his knees. Otabek hums in approval, and then Yuri feels the head of his cock nudging his arsehole and sighs. 

The burn is familiar, though not at all pleasant. Yuri breathes out through his mouth and Otabek hisses as he pushes deeper and deeper. Yuri gulps when he's all the way in. Otabek always gives him some time to adjust, and now it's no different, but Yuri can tell he's dying to start fucking into him. 

"Yura?" He asks, and in response Yuri finds some traction between the sheets and his knees and bounces down on his cock. 

Otabek hisses a delighted "Oh, fuck," before slamming in. Yuri lets his head hang between his arms, bouncing with every thrust of Otabek's. Yuri perks up to hear his sounds better. Otabek is never really loud when they have sex, but he grunts along with every snap of his hips and the sound is amazing. Yuri likes to see his face too when they do it, but when they're feeling like this, like doing it rough and fast Yuri prefers this position. 

"B-Beka," Yuri whines. His hair is a mess around his head, and Otabek fucks into him with more force. "C-Could you-" 

Otabek reaches around to pump his cock and Yuri sees stars, clenching around him in thanks. Otabek laps up his spine and Yuri _loves_ when he does that. Preferably before he fucks him too. 

But Otabek's cock feels so good inside Yuri. He still can't believe it. It feels like he's reaching so deep inside Yuri that he'll go cross-eyed or something. And just like that, just as he always does, Otabek hits his prostate with a particular deep thrust and Yuri roars, limbs shaking as his belly coils. He feels the lower half of his body tightening. Otabek keeps on pumping him and a swipe of his thumb over Yuri's cock head is all it takes for him to come. 

Otabek drives in slowly while Yuri goes through the aftershocks, holding his hips up when he loses his strength. 

"Beka," Yuri chants quietly, head dizzy while Otabek keeps on hammering his hips. These muffled 'uh's are tumbling from his lips, and now that Yuri turns his head to look at him he sees the way he has his eyes shut tightly, holding onto Yuri's hips in a way that will surely leave marks. 

His thrusts increase in pace and Yuri can't even say he isn't thankful because he's starting to feel hypersensitive and being fucked through that feeling isn't very comfortable. He can see that Otabek is close though, and when his boyfriend opens his eyes suddenly he stares down at Yuri, upper lip glistening with sweat. He crooks a small grin and then Otabek is coming inside him. Yuri shivers at the feeling, so blown with hot come. He can feel Otabek's cock twitching inside him and keeps himself in place. 

Otabek falls beside him on the bed, chest heaving with every breath. He throws an arm over his own forehead and watches the ceiling while Yuri bunches the sheet over his form and goes to prop his head on his chest. "Was it good for you?" He asks playfully, and Otabek chuckles. 

 

\- 

 

"Morning." 

Otabek blinks awake. The only thing he is aware of is of light streaming through a window and a weight on his lap. It's Yuri, he's able to make out when he gets his vision back. He's still wearing the same clothes they'd arrived in yesterday since they hadn't had time to do much about it after having sex. His crop top is creased and his underwear, black and lacy, has some spots of come. The sheets feel soiled too though Otabek had thrown the dirtiest ones to the ground after round three last night. 

"Yura," he mumbles, and sits up. Differently from Yuri, he's naked under the sheets. "Morning," he says around a yawn, "what time is it?" 

"A little after eleven," Yuri says. His hair is all mussed to one side and there's still a bit of color around his cheeks from where his make-up had smudged last inght. He looks a mess. A beautiful mess. 

"Shit." Otabek'd agreed to contact his pilot so they could leave around the afternoon. "Did you see my bag?" 

"It's in the other room," Yuri says, but doesn't dislodge himself from Otabek's lap. 

"Hn," Otabek makes, and watches him in search of any sign that he's moving. Yuri startles and throws his leg to the side to let Otabek stand up. He looks odd. "Have you had breakfast?" 

Yuri points at a tray next to the door. 

Otabek hums and fishes around for his boxers. He slides it on and goes to get a salty biscuit from the tray. Yuri'd drank most of the coffee already and the hot water for the teabags had grown lukewarm. "How long have you been up?" 

Yuri is staring at the mattress and biting his bottom lip when Otabek turns to him. He looks up and finds his eye. "For a few hours," he says, and then gives a faint smile while holding up his phone demonstratively, "messages." 

Otabek nods. He finds his phone in his bag, which is in the sitting room. He's got six new emails and a couple messages from Aisha and answers to them while walking back to the bedroom. "If I eat this biscuit can I kiss you? I know you don't like morning breath," he asks Yuri, and pauses at the doorway. 

Yuri is typing furiously on his phone. "Sorry," he says when he spots Otabek. 

"Yura," he frowns, "what's wrong?" 

"Phichit," he mumbles. 

"Is he still giving you trouble? Block him," Otabek goes to sit beside him on the bed. 

"It's not that," Yuri shakes his head. "He's apologizing." 

Otabek raises an eyebrow. "That's good, isn't it?" 

Yuri shrugs. "I think so." 

"Hey," Otabek tips Yuri's chin to the side with his thumb, "I don't like seeing you sad. Okay?" He sets a kiss on his shoulder. 

Yuri gives him a small smile in return and then flops back on the bed with a sigh. "Right, sorry. It's just that, do you know when it feels like people are trying to hide something from you? It's fucking unnerving." 

"Hn, well, I can't say I know the feeling." 

Yuri clicks his tongue, and then stares at his phone's screen. "It sucks." 

 

\- 

 

The flight back to St Petersburg isn't much different than the first. The only inconvenient was that the airport was loaded when they arrived so they had to roam around it for almost an hour before the tower allowed them to land. 

Yuri is exhausted when they touch down. Long flights always had a way of leaving him anxious to touch the floor again and even Otabek's film collection wasn't enough to keep his mind off other things. Those other things being, mainly, Phichit and his desperate messages. 

When the first one had arrived back in London Yuri did his best not to read. He was willing to spend the rest of his days without giving Phichit a piece of his mind, but as always, curiosity got the best of him. Despite his initial suspicions what he found Phichit's messages to be were overall confusing. According to Phichit, he'd talked to Mila and realized the whole thing was a big _misunderstanding_ and then apologized profusely for the next ten messages for calling Yuri such terrible things. 

Yuri felt some sort of vindictive glee in the beginning. Even now, he still does. But there was something odd with it. Why would Phichit change his mind when he spoke to Mila when everything Yuri'd said wasn't enough to make him reach the same conclusion? 

Yuri breaks out of his thoughts when Otabek squeezes his hand. They're heading to the disembark area now, and Yuri slides his stroller bag with one hand while Otabek goes through his phone and tells him some stuff concerning his file against JJ. Apparently, his lawyer would be notifying it officially tomorrow, which gave him a last day of peace before it hit the news. He's still talking about it when they exit the airport, and then the thing Yuri had least been looking up to happens. A group of girls recognize them. Yuri can tell from the way they glance once, twice, and then whisper to each other and snicker behind their hands while Yuri tries to flag down a cab. 

"Fuck," he mumbles under his breath when they approach, shoving his shades on his face and pulling down his hood. 

"Hi, Otabek? Yuri? Oh my god, we're your die-hard fans," the tallest girl says. Her friends nod along to her words and Yuri can already spot their phones, grasped firmly between their fingers. Otabek, to his amazement, actually stops what he's doing to thank them shortly. "We were wondering," she continues, and glances at Yuri fearfully, "could you take a picture with us?" 

"Oh," Otabek glances at him, "sure." 

Yuri really isn't feeling up to it. A bad mood had come over him like a black cloud hanging over his head since Phichit's messages. He gives a step back, "sorry, but no." 

He doesn't stay to see the face Otabek makes, or if even does at all, but he manages to flag down a cab while Otabek takes the pictures. He gets into the backseat and bites the end of a nail while Otabek says his goodbyes and even mumbles an apology in Yuri's behalf. Yuri huffs under his breath when Otabek climbs in beside him. He can feel the way he's glancing at Yuri out of the corner of his eye but none of them make a comment. Yuri fires his address to the driver and they pull over and into the traffic. 

Otabek's engrossed on his phone, or at least is acting like he is, so Yuri pulls his out and starts tapping on whatever. His fingers itch though, this _thing_ in the back of his mind whispering that there's something odd, something he was valiantly trying not to think about. Yuri gives up and taps on his conversation with Mila, going through the old messages they'd exchanged. 

It does nothing other than further sour his mood but soon enough they arrive at his building. Yuri pays for the ride though Otabek had already pulled out his wallet. He'd glanced at Yuri and put it away though, already knowing that this probably wasn't the best of times to contradict him. It irks Yuri when people react like Otabek do to his moods. He wants them to ask for the cause of it because he wants to shout. When all they do is pretend nothing is bothering them or try not to get in his way is when he sees red. 

Yuri slams the door shut and goes up to the front steps. He doesn't even retribute his doorman's greet when he punches the button to the elevator, waiting impatiently until Otabek stands beside him. The ride is silent and heavy like the one in the cab, and when Yuri finally gets his keys and opens the door, the first thing he does is go to his bedroom to throw his bag wherever. He can hear Otabek sighing all the way from there, but pouts and opens his phone again. 

A message catches his eye. He'd been the one who sent it, actually, the day he arrived in Paris. When Yuri spots it, his heart sinks. He'd already _known_ then, he would realize later, the single moment when his eyes found the red and pink coloring of the gossip magazine, he'd already known. But there's a clog that lodges itself on his throat, just like when he's about to cry, and Yuri clicks on it. 

_**Mila Babicheva** , model, […] has been secretly seeing someone from the music world. […] an anonymous source […] "I can't say his name, but when it becomes official […] a huge power couple." […] a few possible musicians in our website that could be Mila's new bf. Go check it out and vote […]_

There's a hyperlink at the bottom and Yuri types it. He bobs his feet impatiently while it loads. The page is then filled with a picture of Mila, winking and blowing a kiss at the camera, sided up to... Otabek's.

> #####  _This pool has already been finished! Visit our Homepage to participate in our new pools!_
> 
> _Rumor has it that **Mila Babicheva** 's new secret boyfriend is: **Otabek Altin** , the hottie Kazakh DJ! None of the parts have confirmed it yet. What is the reason behind such secrecy? A one-time fling? Leave your comment!_  
> 

_**madam_butterfly** : eww ,what nonsense is that?_  
 _ **fishandchips** : ohmygosh! I knew it!_  
 _ **altinitla** : idk otabek does models like he changes clothes. probs one nght stand_  
 _ **spongebobby** : a friend of mine saw them toghter once_  
 _ **mufasalives** : lol they met at that summer festival , every1 hooks up there _

Yuri bolts to the bathroom. He is sure he's going to throw up. His heart can't stop beating really fast and _aching_. He feels so stupid. The floor seems to have turned upside down on him; how could this have happened? How couldn't he have _known_? He'd been given all the signs. He'd read the news and the comments and thought it unsubstantial but now everything makes a lot of sense, a ridiculous fucking amount of sense. _Altin's new model_ he was, a notch on his belt. He was the all-time fuckboy his grandpa had warned him about, but even grandpa had been fooled by it. He didn't mind that Otabek fucked other people before, but gods, Mila! 

She'd tried to tell him. She said she had someone and then tried to tell him who it was when he arrived in Paris. Only Yuri couldn't make it so he'd never known. And then she actually had _introduced_ them. No wonder Phichit thought he was such an asshole. He must've thought Yuri knew all along. But Otabek- Otabek had to be such an asshole to do that. Yuri still couldn't believe it. He'd seemed so kind. He'd been so kind to Yuri. 

Yuri takes in deep breaths and goes back to his bedroom. Otabek still hasn't shown his face around, so Yuri starts taking off his clothes to have something to do. He puts on the biggest shirt he owns and leggings, taking the contents of his bag out and into his drawers carelessly. 

Yuri doesn't even hear it when Otabek shows up, probably because the only thing he does is stand on the doorway watching him. There's a small frown weighing down the skin between his eyebrows. 

"That wasn't very nice of you," is what Otabek says. Yuri doesn't know if he means the fans from the airport, the drive to the building or the doorman, but he turns around and his pissed off face must show. 

"Did you sleep with Mila?!" He roars. 

Yuri can see Otabek's eyes widening, which is something he hadn't testified before. He can also see that he's been taken completely off-guard, with the way he balks, gives a step back and frowns. "What?!" He hisses, and actually narrows his eyes at Yuri. 

"Did you fuck Mila?" 

"No!" Otabek counters. 

Yuri watches him for a moment, lips drawn thin. He wants to believe Otabek, but it's unlikely that he's saying the truth. Right? "Get out," he snarls, and before Otabek can react, starts pushing him back down the hallway. 

"Yura, wait, what-" 

"Get out! Now, I want you fucking out of here," Yuri dodges the way he tries to stop him, takes his wrist out of his grasp. This has turned into a train wreck so fast. "I never want to fucking see you again, you dickhead!" 

"Yura, I'm not lying. Why do you think I am lying? Mila is my friend, that's all," Otabek plants his feet on the floor. They're almost in the living room now, but Otabek takes both his forearms in hand and doesn't let go. Yuri wants to cry so bad. But he can't, he wasn't to blame here. 

"You can't fucking say that! How dare you? I wouldn't care, I wouldn't care if it were anyone else but Mila-" Yuri breathes, nostrils flaring, "she was my friend and you _knew_ it. She's stopped fucking talking to me-" 

"That was not your fault, Yura." 

"Don't fucking call me that," Yuri yells, and hits Otabek's chest repeatedly. 

"Yuri, I swear we never had anything." 

"She said-" 

"What she says doesn't mean-" Otabek sighs, grasping both of Yuri's wrists together. "She's confused. I never gave her any reason to think we were anything more than friends. We never had sex." 

Yuri stops fighting for a moment. Otabek watches him attentively and lets his wrists go when he realizes he might be hurting him. "I don't believe you," Yuri hisses, and when he looks up his eyes are fiery. Otabek gulps uncertainly. 

"You don't? Don't you trust me?" He asks. 

Yuri shakes his head. "I think you're a fucking liar. I think you wanted to fuck as many people as you could and you didn't fucking care-" 

"So that," Otabek speaks over him, for the first time raising his voice over Yuri's, "that is what you think of me?" 

Yuri crosses his arms. He wants to say yes, he _needs_ to say yes, for his pride mostly. But at the same time he knows it isn't true. He doesn't think so lowly of Otabek. At least he hadn't before. Something in him tells him he's right, but there's something else telling he's wrong. He's so fucking confused. 

But Otabek takes his silence as the asnwer it isn't. He squares his jaw, giving a short, simple nod before turning on his heels. "All right, then. You want me gone, so I'll go." 

Yuri watches him getting his backpack back from the floor and heading to the door. He wipes a tear from his cheek but steadies his feet. He's not weak to cry like this. 

Otabek halts suddenly at the door, shoulders tensed. Yuri takes a step back, but all Otabek does is put take his cell phone from his pocket. He has this hard face when he taps on it for a while and then shoves the screen at Yuri's face. 

"If you say you don't believe me at least read these," he says, and Yuri turns his head away out of spite. He gets a glance at a message app but pouts and looks away. Otabek huffs. "Yuri, please. I don't want to leave this with the feeling that I wronged you." 

Yuri shakes his head and lowers his gaze to his own feet. He can't stare Otabek in the eyes. He feels like crying so bad. 

"We met at a festival. Half an year ago," Otabek tells him, and Yuri nods mechanically. "We exchanged numbers and talked for some time. But we never- Yuri, read it, please. Those are all the messages we traded." 

He sighs again when Yuri doesn't speak up. "This is very private and I wouldn't show you if I didn't think- If I didn't want so bad for you to trust me." 

Yuri bites his bottom lip. The skin feels raw under his teeth, but he gets the phone from Otabek's hands in impulse. Otabek draws a relieved breath. Yuri stares at the screen, hands shaking around the device. 

_**Mila** : hey there !! it's mila_  
_remember me ?? Hahaha_

_**You** : Sure, Mila. Nice to talk to you again._  
_How are you doing?_

Yuri opens his mouth. He suddenly doesn't have any patience for this anymore. It's all a jumble of words that doesn't make sense anymore. He doesn't know what to believe, who to believe in. 

"I'm sorry," Yuri pushes the phone back into Otabek's hand, "I can't, I just can't. I'm sorry." 

To his surprise Otabek doesn't say anything else, doesn't insist. He pockets his phone and gets his backpack back. 

"Bye, Yuri," he says and doesn't look back when he shuts the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for keeping up! <3


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait and hope so much you enjoy it! :)

There's one thing about Yuri's apartment that he hates: when the wind blows it sounds like a howl, and it fucking creeps him out. Right now it's no different. The cab is already waiting for him downstairs and Yuri had had to go back inside to get his passport. He'd left a gap on the window and returns to slam it shut. 

The driver is looking at some dubious photos on his phone when Yuri finally makes his way downstairs and gets in the car. The man rights himself and starts the car while Yuri huffs and gets his cell phone. 

_Look, Yuri_ , he reads Katsudon's message.  
_I don't know what to say, honestly_  
_Otabek seems like a really good person and he must have his reasons_  
_But I understand that finding something like that out isn't so great : (_  
_Sad you guys didn't make it : (_  
_But if you ever need anything or just wish to talk, you can come to me_

_thnx_ , Yuri types back. 

"Hey, aren't you that model?" The driver asks him, squinting at Yuri through the rearview mirror. 

"Yes," Yuri mumbles, and gives him a scowl that assures him he won't ask anything else again for the duration of the ride. 

He receives yet another notification from a fan. The news of Otabek having filled a lawsuit against JJ hit the news only two days ago, which meant that the internet was in an uproar. Otabek's otherwise calm fan pages and public accounts were being bombarded by fans who were after more information or just greedy to disturb his peace. Otabek, as always, didn't say a thing, which meant they were now going after Yuri as though he holds the answers to all of their questions and has less limits or properties about its sharing. 

The new post Yuri was tagged in was of a news website. Otabek's face was sided up next to JJ's, Otabek's face stoic and JJ flashing a big-teethed smile at the camera.

> ####  **Altin reclaims ownership of JJ Leroy's latest single 'Morpheus'**
> 
> _The 25 year old DJ has recently made his relationship with top model Yuri Plisetsky official, but now the Kazakh musician is in the spotlights for a different reason. Altin now claims that the authorship of JJ's s latest single, Morpheus, released last spring, belongs to him._
> 
> _But how could JJ have gotten his hands on such material? Otabek's representatives affirm that the two musicians were involved in a possible collaboration during some time._
> 
> _"Mr Altin was thrilled at the possibility of such a collaboration with the artist known as JJ, whom he's always admired," said Mr Hong, Otabek's lawyer, at an interview yesterday, "they agreed to share their materials and come to a conclusion. Mr Altin then sent him the lyrics and the basic production of a music he'd been working on, planning to use as a solo. Mr Leroy, however, didn't get back in contact with him and terminated their plans before the official merchandise could begin. Two months later he released a single with the same title and lyrics as the one Mr Altin had shared with him, with slight modifications made on its production. Mr Altin recognized it immediately."_
> 
> _Asked as to why Otabek Altin chose not to file a lawsuit earlier, Mr Hong preferred not to comment. JJ, who celebrated the nomination of his single to the Grammy's Song of the Year a few weeks ago, denied Altin's accusations using his Twitter account. His representatives stepped forward and made a press release guaranteeing that the truth shall prevail and claiming to be under possession of 'critical evidences' that prove JJ to be the sole writer and producer of the song._
> 
> _Otabek Altin hasn't spoken up about the matter in any of his accounts and refused to answer our questions._

"Is this it, sir?" 

Yuri startles, briefly exchanging a look with the driver. They've already pulled over at the airport, and the guy is probably waiting for his money. "Yes, thanks," Yuri shoves some notes in his direction and zips up his wallet. 

"Thanks," the man grumbles, "hey, aren't you the one who dates that guy? With the undercut?" 

Yuri climbs out of the car and shuts the door, getting his baggage and moving towards the sliding doors. He can't fucking stand this airport anymore, and does his own check-in before going through security. 

He's got a show programmed for two brands in Milan and another at Dubai before he could come back. He'd been looking forward to spending the last three days cuddling up and having lots of sex with his boyfriend but, hey, no such luck. 

Yuri'd given some thought into telling Yakov that he and Otabek were- giving each other some time? They didn't talk about if they were breaking up or not but they haven't seen or spoken to each other since _the_ fight. So, it feels a lot like they have. But doing that would put a definite end to things and Yuri still wasn't ready for that. Also... Yuri looks down at his phone. Otabek is getting quite the backlash already for the thing with JJ. Doing that now would be cowardice. 

Yuri has to turn off his phone to get in the airplane and he spends the hours reading his Harry Potter paperback before watching another Friends episode. He feels sick to the stomach when touching down in Milan and curses his diet when all he gets for dinner that night is a granola bar, half an avocado and some broccoli with dark rice. He props on his bed and after making sure he's got tomorrow's schedule memorized, calls his grandpa. 

The call rings four time before he picks up. His face fills the screen of his laptop, curiously looking down and changing angles. 

"Yurochka!" He says, "so good to see you, boy." 

"Grandpa," Yuri smiles, chin propped on the heel of his hand. "Nice to see you too. How are things?" 

"Same old, same old," Nikolai shrugs. The screen shakes for a minute before he gets the tablet fixed on his lap. "And you? Your Otabek seems to have gotten himself into quite the problem, hn?" 

Yuri sighs. This is the part he'd been wanting to avoid. But he couldn't spend the rest of his life and still talk to people without them asking after Otabek. "Grandpa, I-" Yuri slides his finger over the thread of the sheets. "I don't know how to tell you this but, me and Beka, we're not- not together anymore." 

"Oh," Nikolai frowns. He looks shocked for a moment, tilting his head back and staring intently at Yuri as though he can't understand him. "Oh, but that's- Okay. I mean, do you want to talk about it?" 

Yuri looks ahead at a point above his laptop. "Not really. It's all," he sighs, "all very confusing. I found out he maybe had a thing with a friend of mine. Mila." 

"Hm, I see," Nikolai adjusts himself on his seat. He makes the face that says he doubts Yuri made the right decision, but prefers not to question. "So you were jealous, I believe?" 

"I- Arhg, I don't know," Yuri cups his head in his hands, "I don't fucking know, I just-" 

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" Nikolai prompts. The connection is shaky and for a moment his face gets stuck until it goes back to normal. 

Yuri shrugs. "Ok, so, I have this friend, Phichit. He's also a model and he's also friends with Mila. Right? So, she introduced Otabek to me in Paris, that's how we met. Then when we started seeing each other she just dropped me," Nikolai frowns, and Yuri elaborates, "she just- she fucking stopped talking to me all of a sudden. She left the hotel earlier, made a scandal about seeing her family and so I said fuck, ok, just go if you want to." 

Nikolai blinks at him patiently and does an agreeable, deep humming sound. 

Yuri licks his lips, "so me and Beka started dating and Phichit comes out of hell to shove accusations at me. He said I couldn't do that to Mila and just freaked me out. Then the next day he comes out apologizing and saying he'd talked to Mila and she'd urged him to apologize to me." 

Nikolai is frowning, probably trying to make sense out of Yuri's rant. "So?" 

"So I looked some things up in the internet and found that they were rumored to have gotten together, Mila and Beka. I just went fucking nuts," Yuri winces, "you know me." 

Nikolai sighs, resting his hands atop his belly. "Oh, Yuratchka." 

"What?" 

"Young love," Nikolai sighs again. 

"Don't- ugh, don't make fun of it," Yuri kicks his mattress, "he was a fucking liar." 

"Why, Yuratchka?" 

"Because he said they didn't have anything." 

"And did they?" Nikolai raises one eyebrow, and when Yuri doesn't answer, gives a small grin, "it seems to me like you're accusing him of things you aren't even sure about yourself." Yuri pouts, looking away from the screen, "I believe you didn't give the young boy a chance to explain himself either?" 

Yuri grumbles under his breath. Nikolai cocks one ear in his direction. "What was that?" 

Yuri sighs, getting up to throw his bottle of water away. When he returns he gathers his laptop on his lap. "I said 'if he had something to explain he would have done it'." 

Nikolai makes a complicated grimace. "Well, you're both at fault then." 

"Wha- I am at fault?" Yuri counters. 

"The first pillar of a good relationship is trust," Nikolai recites. Yuri rolls his eyes. "He didn't speak, and you didn't listen. Or if he did, you chose not to listen to him." 

Yuri lets his head hit the headboard and sighs. "It feels like I'm walking in circles." 

Nikolai scratches the top of his head like he's stuck analyzing his next movement on a chess board. "What is bothering you, Yurochka? In all of this, what stands out?" 

Yuri worries his bottom lip, twirling a finger around the loose thread of a pillowcase. "That he- First, that I didn't know about it. Secondly, that he didn't tell me. Third, that they-" Yuri can't say it, "that they had something and that he's coming after me even though I'm her fucking friend. That he doesn't care. That he's used me for sex." 

"Is that how it would make you feel if he were to confess that you and his friend, what was her name, Nina? That they had sex? Would you feel like he's using you?" 

Yuri watches the movement of his own finger and gives a shy, small nod of his head. "Do you think I'd be wrong to think that?" 

Nikolai doesn't say anything for a moment, and then his face breaks into a small smile. "You know, your grandmother dated my best friend before we knew each other. In fact, they _were_ dating when we met." 

Yuri can feel his chin dropping. His eyes flicker over the screen, looking for anything that might give away if his grandfather is shitting with him or no. "What? For real?" 

Nikolai nods. "They broke up a few weeks later," he shrugs. 

"And let me guess, you were there to console her?" Yuri snarks, and Nikolai's response is a big booming laugh. It's almost as good as a yes sign in neon. "And your friend wasn't jealous?" He asks after Nikolai's laughter has subsided. 

"Oh, he was, pardon the word, pissed." 

Yuri smirks. "Pardon the word, really grandpa?" He chuckles, "that sucks." 

"A lot of things suck in life. But some _others_ don't," Nikolai grins. "I'm telling you, he wasn't happy. But he found someone else later, we moved on with our lives. And all was well." 

Yuri gives it some thought for a minute. "So you think that I-" 

"Oh, hold on, I don't think anything," he holds both his hands up in defense. "I'm just an old man sitting in my chair. I'm just giving you a piece of advice, as elders do to the youngest, that sometimes, what you think to be the worst possibility ever is _not_ , in fact, the _worst_ case scenario." 

"Soo," Yuri draws out, "even if they did have sex," he shrugs, "I shouldn't... care?" 

Nikolai gives a thin-lipped grin and shakes his head. "Talk to him. If you don't trust him, dump him. But don't jump to conclusions and make them incontestable. If you do that you'll always second guess yourself and live with the weight of it for the rest of your life. You're your only true friend, Yurochka, you, and only you, understands yourself better than anyone else. " Nikolai pauses, and taps a finger against the back of his hand when all he gets is silence, "was that a long speech?" 

Yuri snorts. "Yeah." 

Nikolai shrugs, "well, you got the message. Can I go to sleep now?" Yuri laughs, and his grandfather raises an eyebrow, "what?" 

"You're the worst fucking counselor in the world." 

 

\- 

 

Yuri winces when they pluck at his eyebrow. Shit, but he hates this part! The girl apologizes when he grits his teeth but seems to take the hint that it's better if she does her job fast. She finishes and hurries to exchange places with another woman that soon takes up his make-up. 

"Hey, Yuri." 

Yuri glances at the sound. It's Carol, a model he meets every once in a while. Yuri didn't remember they would be walking for this label together. She gives him a coquettish smile while the hairdresser works on her. 

Carol is much like him, doesn't speak much, only enough. She's brown-skinned and blue eyed, with twin dimples on her cheeks. When she smiles, Yuri doesn't know if she's making fun of him or not. 

"Hey, Carol," he greets back, glad that the woman starts applying his lipstick because that means he won't have to say anything back for a while. 

"Nice to see you again. I thought you only walked for Lilia now. She'll make you into her own pet real soon, careful," Carol warns, pouting at her phone's camera and uploading her selfie to snapchat. "Last I heard, you were kissing DJs at festivals and living the good life. Mind what I told you about that birth control pill, won't you? It fattens you up real fast." 

The woman steps back to gather a lip pencil. "Hn, thanks," Yuri mumbles controversially before she comes back. 

"He's in a mud of trouble now, isn't he? Everyone's talking about it. Not the wisest thing to go against JJ, but I suppose that music really is too good to have come out of that tiny head of his. He's talented, your boy. He might even get something out of it," she blows him a kiss, bouncing the curls that the hairdresser delivers with all the care to her shoulders. 

"Watch out though," she continues, pulling faces at her own reflection on the mirror, "those fans _really_ are crazy, you know?" 

Yuri frowns, but the woman finishes with his make-up and Carol's hairdresser sets up to do his. Carol is watching him with doe-like eyes, waiting for him to say something. 

Yuri sighs, "Beka will be fine." 

Carol raises an eyebrow at his tone, smiling like the cat that got the cream. "Oh," she makes innocently, shrugging and then admiring herself on the mirror. She flicks a curl away from her face and sighs dreamily. "Ah, don't you sometimes just feel perfect?" She asks him. 

"No, I feel vain," Yuri retorts, licking his teeth where he can feel a smudge of lipstick, "that's different." 

 

\- 

 

 _"Hey, Yuri, this is Yuuri, hn, Katsuki. Just letting you know that everything's fine here in case you are... wondering. Oh, by the way, we've sent you an invitation for our wedding. I think your doorman has it, when you get here, ah, never mind. Have to go, bye."_ Yuri lowers the phone when the audio finishes. He winces and toes off his heels before walking further into his hotel room. 

There are still some hairpins keeping his hair in place in a low bun that would've left Lilia jealous. He picks them apart in front of the mirror and lets the tub fill with warm water before dipping in. Yuri shuts his eyes and tries to do as his yoga trainer tells him to, focus on his breathing and channel the vision of an ocean, slow and gentle waves- 

His phone vibrates on the counter, producing an ugly sound. Yuri huffs, rolling his head to the side and creaking one eye open. He clicks his tongue and reaches for his phone. It's nothing other than a bunch of fans tagging him. Some models and other people he knew had also sent him private messages asking him about the thing with Otabek. Vultures. 

_**@carol-sterling** has tagged you on a photo!_. Indeed, she had posted the selfie they'd taken before getting on the catwalk. And then the rest: 

_**@rosebarner** : I can't believe **@otabek-altin** stole **@jj-leroy** 's song. Or the other way around ahhhhhh what to believe in? **@yuri-plisetsky** is this true??_

_**@itsjjstyle** : **@otabek-altin** & **@yuri-plisetsky** can go fuck in hell morpheus is a masterpiece and its jjs they have proof #fuckingpeople #thieves #teamleroy #4ever #morpheus_

_**@mrsaltin** : **@itsjjstyle** you and I both know this is a lie, they have no proof bc otabek wrote the song. Jj is the one who is a thief, otabek was nothing bt nice to him **@otabek-altin** **@yuri-plisetsky** #teamaltin #morpheus_

Honestly, why the hell was he tagged in that? 

_**@yuri-dfairy** : small reminder that **@yuri-plisetsky** has never taken sides, didn't say anthing abt the matter and doesn't have anything to do with it. He's just **@otabek-altin** 's boyfriend, not his spokesman #morpheus #teamaltin #bcfightmebitches_

Yuri pulls the plug on the tub and watches the water go down the drain before getting his fluffy towel and heading to the bedroom. He eats a couple cookies with a bunch of fibers and wraps a robe around himself. 

He takes a seat in front of the desk and turns his laptop on, pausing to flick crumbs off his lap before hitting to call Katsudon. The call dies down without anyone getting it. Yuri sighs and tries again to find that Katsudon answers at the second ring. 

"Yuri," he says, looking harried as he plops himself in a chair in front of his screen and looks over his shoulder at something. 

"Hey, you said everything was fine so it must mean everything's gone to shit and- stop doing that!" 

Katsuki had been waving his hands at Yuri while clumsily trying to lower the volume on his device. Oh, it was a secret that he was talking to Yuri them. Yuri briefly wonders if Otabek is staying with them again. If he was, he would tease him again for it, but that was if they ever saw each other. 

"Yuri, hold-" Katsuki says, and then crams his neck to shout a loud no to someone. Victor, probably. He finally gives Yuri his full attention, nudging some hair behind his ear and giving Yuri a small smile that fooled no one. "Yuri, how are you doing? I'm glad you listened to my message." 

"Yeah," Yuri mumbles. "Listen, I'm fucking tired, just say what you want to say so I can go to bed." 

"Oh, no, I wouldn't want to get in the way- there's nothing really," Katsudon waves his hands messily. "We left your invitation-" 

"Yes, you said. For god's sake, just spill." 

Katsudon wrings his hands together on his lap. He glances over his shoulder at the door of his room before leaning closer to the screen. "You know I said that you could always talk to me, right? And I totally do, I don't blame you for anything, Yuri. But could you maybe-" he sighs, "could you maybe talk to Otabek? Just a little bit?" 

Yuri stares at him, open-mouthed. "Why?" 

Katsudon can't seem to be formulating straight sentences. The door to his room opens though, and in walks Victor. He doesn't look surprised to see Katsudon talking to Yuri, but Katsuki jumps on his chair when Victor sets a hand on his shoulder. 

Victor mumbles to Katsudon in Japanese, probably not knowing that Yuri can pick some things apart on the language. He's telling Yuuri to go see to something while he talks to Yuri. Katsuki excuses himself, giving Yuri a weak grin before leaving the room. Victor takes the chair he'd vacated, giving Yuri a small greeting and a wave. 

"Victor, what the hell is going on?" Yuri asks. It's bad enough that he's had to do this. 

"We're worried about Otabek," gods, but Victor can go straight to the point. Yuri can't even complain. "He's got the thing with JJ, the thing with you, the thing with the fans, the thing with his lawyer, the thing with the press. It's a lot for a single man," he pauses, "pardon the pun." 

"Look," Yuri sighs. It's difficult not to sympathize. Otabek was, in some aspect, alone in this. Yuri couldn't choose a timing for fighting but if he could he wouldn't have chosen this time. "I know, this is shit and all, but it's none of my business." 

"Yuri," Victor calls, and his face is straight and serious, the way it never is, "I know you have at least some part in this. Otabek wouldn't have gathered the courage to go against JJ publicly if there wasn't someone backing him up." 

Yuri doesn't let himself be impressed. He tilts his chin up and smirks at Victor, "I'm guilty of all charges, your honor. Can I go now?" 

"Don't do this, Yuri. I know this isn't the best of moments and that both of you are going through a complicated time with your whatever that was. I'm not saying you have to go back together, I'm just saying that Otabek needs someone to support him. And it would be kind of you to do that. To show him that respect, at least." 

Yuri crosses his arms. He's nothing if not petulant. "Why doesn't he ask Mila for support? Or all his other models?" 

Victor runs his hands up his head. "Gods, you're worse than a child." 

"No, I _am_ a child. A child that doesn't want anyone fucking meddling into my life, so fuck you, Victor." 

Victor sighs. "Whatever. This was a bad idea after all." Yuri thinks he's about to finish the call, but all he does is scratch at his own arm and look away for a second before fixing his eyes on Yuri again. "How are things going with you, by the way?" 

"Fine," Yuri mumbles. 

"People aren't giving you trouble?" 

"All they do is give me trouble. Always," he narrows his eyes at Victor's image. "So no, I can't tell the difference." Yuri waits a beat before finally sighing. He gathers his hair up in a ponytail and turns his eyes to Victor. "How's Otabek?" 

Victor shrugs. "He'd look otherwise normal, just broodier than usual." 

"Has he been staying with you?" 

"No, at the hotel. It's close by, though. And he's still recording the last of my music before... going." 

"Has he said where he's going to?" 

"Kazakhstan, most probably. He wants to spend some time with his family," Victor informs, and Yuri nods. "He's been getting a lot of attacks, turned off his phone. He had to hire a guy to delete his little sister's accounts. He was afraid on her behalf." 

"Shit," Yuri's blood runs cold. "Is this really happening?" 

Victor makes a face. 

"Victor, how- how bad is this? Has he been getting death threats or shit, I don't know-" 

"No, it hasn't gotten to that point. Just people calling him names, others defending him. As I said, he's turned off his phone and he's never been much into these things anyway," Victor flicks something out of Yuri's line of vision. "He's probably just worried about the people he cares about," Victor says, and then gives him this very _meaningful_ look. Yuri swallows dryly. 

"I have another show in Dubai still. I leave tomorrow," Yuri says, to break the ice and to get where Victor wants to get. 

"Oh?" Victor raises both his eyebrows unsurprisingly. 

"I'll come back in two days, I think. At most. I'll leave as soon as I can." 

Victor smiles. "Thanks, Yuri. I'm glad to see you're not as cruel as I thought you were for a minute." 

"Oh, fuck off, asshole," Yuri turns on his chair, flipping him off, "I'm still as bad as you wish I wasn't." 

 

\- 

 

Dubai glints ominously under the sunlight and Yuri takes a picture of the sight out of his window to post on his Instagram. 

A person is waiting for him in the airport and Yuri is taken to his hotel immediately. He has to put on his sunblock when he goes to take a walk around the city. To his surprise, there are a couple people with cameras waiting for him by the exit of the hotel. Yuri ducks his head and hastens to walk away. 

"Yuri, Yuri," the paparazzi calls, "how is your boyfriend?" 

Yuri flips him off. He'd actually gotten Yakov's approval by doing that because that meant the guy wouldn't be able to publish most of the pictures he took of him. And it felt good. 

Yuri takes a cab and loses the guy easily before dropping close to a café. He takes a seat near the corner, something Otabek had taught him. To watch and know when he's being watched. The memory of him makes Yuri's stomach drop and fishes his phone out of his pocket when the girl comes get his order. 

He asks for a black coffee and then roams through his fan pages. They're not as crazy as Otabek's fandom seeing as Yuri didn't really have much to do with the rift between JJ and Otabek, but his fans still share the news and wish Otabek good luck on the trial. 

Yuri muses on his life while sipping his coffee, which tastes like shit, to be honest. Nikolai's words had really bugged him since they'd last Skyped. He didn't know about his grandparents' story together or how they came to be and finds that he doesn't really care. The thing is that the outcome of their relationship, forty years of marriage before grandmother passed away, was bigger than any obstacle they'd gone through when younger. Damn, Yuri couldn't even imagine Nikolai without a wrinkled face. That was such a long time ago. 

If he and Otabek do talk and fix things up, is this how he is going to look back at this in the future? Like a joke, something he'd been so strung up over and in the end meant nothing? Yuri doesn't know, but he doesn't know a lot of things. He's taken some things for granted, he supposes. But when reading that damn pool and the comments, and when the idea of Otabek having had something with Mila in the past became to form in his head, he'd lost all reason. Emotions are not easily managed, especially the ones he'd been nurturing for Otabek, so delicate and so new. He hadn't even listened to him. 

The thing is, Yuri isn't sure of what happened, but Otabek said nothing had. And to be frank, Yuri believes him. Mila wouldn't have given Yuri his number otherwise. Unless she really wanted to fuck him up. 

Yuri groans into his own hands now that he realizes this. He'd fucked up. But Beka had too... Argh, whatever, they just needed time to think things up. Yuri's going to talk to him as soon as he lands in St Petersburg. Even if Otabek doesn't want him back, he has to try. 

"Fuck," he grumbles, and smashes his plastic cup on the bin once he's done. 

 

\- 

 

The whole show passes by in a blur. Yuri tries to focus on his job and leave out all the rest, but it's difficult. The collection was aiming for a season of 'dark summer', a concept Yuri thinks the designer had taken out of his ass. Most of the clothes cover their whole body, but the material is light and airy. Yuri is fitted inside a sheer black bodysuit. It sticks to his skin and contrasts well with his coloring, with tiny golden butterflies clinging to it. 

The after-party is the next day but Yuri skips it. Yakov was probably going to chew his ear off over that later but Yuri catches the earliest route that leads to St Petersburg, which ends up having a connection in Astana, Kazakhstan. 

Yuri doesn't know if he'd ever been to the country before. From the little that he remembers he'd stopped by at this same airport for another connection once, heading to Russia as well. There's a higher likability that people are going to recognize him here, Yuri perceives, because everything is full of Otabek everywhere. He's in the adds – honestly, when had he planned on telling Yuri he'd modelled for those Japanese motorcycles? - , in the news, magazines, newspapers, biographies. He'd even dubbed a Disney main character in Kazakh. What the hell? 

He grabs a couple protein bars and a cold tea from a vending machine and spots a teddy bear plushie. It's wearing a shirt with 'I was in Astana, Kazakhstan' in it and Yuri thinks it'd be a good souvenir. He punches it inside his handbag after buying it because he'd look ridiculous in high heels and shades holding a plushie. Also, plushies are cute and soft and that's not the image Yuri wants attached to himself. 

Yuri heads to the bathroom. He reapplies some make-up to hide the dark circles under his eyes and a freaking acne that'd sprouted on his cheek, turning his phone on. There's an email from Baranovskaya and more fans liking his last picture. Once done, Yuri takes a seat next to his gate. 

There's a tall girl in a hijab sitting in front of him that can't stop looking his way. Every once in a while a female voice announces some shit in Kazakh and then translates in accented English. By the end of the ten minutes Yuri spends there before boarding begins he is sure everyone has already figured out who he is. He's skinny, blond and white and his pictures featured at least half the population of materials where Otabek was the main subject, which was pretty much all of them. He stands out too much here. If he ever becomes a fugitive, Yuri can already cross off Kazakhstan from his possible hiding spots list. 

Thankfully, none of them try to talk to him, though the stares are a bit unnerving. His phone chimes with a notification and Yuri has to assure the flight attendant that it was in airplane mode. It was only his heat planning app saying his heat was in two weeks. Fucking great. 

When they actually land, Yuri's phone explodes with messages. There's Yuuri, Victor, Lilia, Yakov and Phichit. 

Phichit! 

_Hi, Yuri_ , he'd said, answering to the message Yuri'd sent him before he'd left Astana. _Mila said I had to apologize to you, she kind of freaked out_. 

_but do you know why?_ he types. A cab pulls over in front of him and Yuri gives him his baggage. He thumbs through the names on his phone and taps on Victor's while the driver opens the trunk. His phone vibrates in his ear when Phichit answers over the call. 

"Yuri," Victor picks the call, "you're here!" His voice sounds cheery and delighted again, as though the man who'd talked to Yuri some time ago had been his evil twin or something. "Do you want us to go pick you up?" 

"No, I've got a cab already. Just tell me where the fuck Beka is." 

There's a pause for a while. "He must still be at the studio," Victor says, and spills the address, which Yuri repeats to the driver. "And Yuri?" He asks, and Yuri hums in answer, "do me a favor? Be nice to him." 

Yuri snorts, rolling up the backseat window. "Bye." 

 

\- 

 

The studio Otabek is at is lodged next to an old building downtown. At first Yuri thinks the driver has gotten the address wrong, because it looks like an industrial shed were it not for the chrome label on top of it. Night has already fallen in St Petersburg and the street isn't very well lit. The driver gets Yuri's baggage from the trunk and Yuri can see he's shitting his pants that he'd be made to park and wait for him there by himself. 

Yuri rolls his eyes and wraps his hand around the handle, strolling his bag along as he pulls back the heavy door to the studio. The interior is well-lit but narrow. There are sliding doors with the studio's logo and minimalist rooms. There's only one man sitting behind the reception desk, tapping his foot and looking at something on his computer screen. He startles when he sees Yuri. 

"Hi," Yuri says, settling both hands on the counter, "I need to talk to Otabek Altin." 

"Uhh," the guy looks behind him at no one, "I don't know- hn, do you have a meeting or something?" It's clear that he recognizes Yuri, and when Yuri gives him a hard stare he only shrugs. "His thing is kind of confidential, so I can't let you in." 

Yuri takes in a deep breath, "I'm his boyfriend, I'm not going to steal his music." 

The guy makes a face. "It's not that. You're not authorized to go in and I'm not authorized to let you." 

Yuri narrows his eyes at him. When he fishes for his phone the guy startles. Yuri dials and holds his phone to his ear, crossing his arms while it rings. 

"Yes?" 

"Victor, tell whoever the fuck you need to let me in." 

There's a sound at the other end of the line. "Are you there? Uh, okay. Just call for Lena, actually, I'll send her down to get you." 

Yuri hangs up. The guy is glancing at him fearfully. Yuri gives a tight smile, "does that work?" He points at the coffee machine behind the guy. 

"Uh, yes." 

"Give me some," Yuri motions for him to hasten, and the guy almost falls over himself to fill a plastic cup to hand him. 

"Thanks," Yuri gobbles it down. 

Some minutes later, a tiny woman in a suit shows up from an elevator. She nods at Yuri and swaps a card that allows the door to slide. "Yuri Plisetsky?" She asks and Yuri mumbles a yes. "This way, please," she directs him towards the way she'd come from and Yuri winks at the receptionist when he passes him. 

The ride on the elevator is silent, the box slowly being pulled to the third floor. 

"He's still recording," the woman, Lena, says as she walks in front of him. "But I'll let you into the sound room." She leads him to a small door with 45 in it and swaps her card again. It clicks and opens. 

There's a guy scratching at his beard and swiveling in his chair inside. A glass separates the sound room from the recording, where Yuri can see a woman sat with a violoncello inside next to Otabek, who has his back to the wall. He has a violin propped on his shoulder and seems to be deciding on something with the woman. 

Lena introduces Yuri to the guy in the chair, Ilya. He extends his hand towards Yuri and asks if he'd like him to call Otabek. "No, it's fine," Yuri says, and turns his eyes back to Otabek. Lena leaves the room with only Yuri and Ilya in it. There's a weird silence as they watch Otabek and the violoncellist. 

Otabek gestures as he speaks and then picks up the violin. He plays something in it that sounds melodious and sad and she nods. 

"Can they hear us in there?" Yuri whispers to Ilya. 

He shakes his head, "only if I press this button," he indicates, "do you want me to-" 

"No," Yuri bends to open his bag and retrieves the teddy bear. It's probably best if he waits for Otabek to be finished. He's been losing his nerve too. "Can you give him this when he's done?" 

But the violoncellist catches sight of Yuri through the glass and he can see the moment where Otabek pauses and follows her line of vision. Yuri just stands there as Otabek spots him. His face morphs into surprise and then acquires its calm resolution again. Yuri squishes the teddy bear to the glass. Otabek turns his eyes to it and reads its shirt before his eyebrows jump; the corner of his lips quirk a little bit before he turns to the violoncellist again. 

She nods and Otabek puts the violin away before heading to the door. He's swearing a soft-looking gray sweater and gives Yuri a small smile when he enters the room. 

Ilya clears his throat and gives a lame excuse as to why he's going outside for a minute. Yuri nods and leans against the controls, biting his bottom lip and curling a lock of hair behind his ear. Otabek stands a few steps away in front of him and pockets his hands. 

The violoncellist exits next, nodding quietly to Yuri and telling Otabek that she's going to get some water and fresh air. When she closes the door they both avoid each other's eyes. Yuri doesn't know for how long they stay like that, but the first to speak is Otabek. 

"Were you in Astana?" 

"Yes, I-" he extends the teddy bear for Otabek's inspection. "I had a connection there," he clears his throat when Otabek takes the plushie and examines it, "thought I would bring... something." 

Otabek gives a quick grin around the teeth that he's using to bite his bottom lip. "That's nice," he hands it back to Yuri, who grabs it and presses it to his chest, crossing his arms in front of it. "I thought you wouldn't," Otabek motions at something and Yuri doesn't understand. He clears his throat and scratches his right eyebrow before elaborating, "I thought you wouldn't show up." 

"Oh," Yuri frowns. "No, I-" he looks away for a second. "I spoke to my grandfather." 

Otabek nods. Yuri doesn't know what else to say, so he doesn't say anything. There's an awkward silence again and Yuri feels in agony. This is so awkward, it wasn't supposed to be like this. 

"Yuuri said you were in Dubai," Otabek states. 

"Yes, for a show." 

"How did it go?" 

"Well," Yuri nods. They're about to fall silent again and he starts scratching at his nail polish until it's chipping. "I- I think we need to talk." 

"Yes," Otabek nods, looking to the side and offering the chair Ilya had been occupying to Yuri. 

Yuri shakes his head. "No, I think it will be quick." 

Something in Otabek's face falls. His shoulders tense and his mouth forms into a line. He ends up taking the seat he'd offered. 

Yuri takes a deep breath through his mouth. "I know it is obvious that I was pissed off. I couldn't have known that Mila was ignoring me because of you, but I think you could've told me," Otabek opens his mouth, and Yuri raises a hand to stop him. "Let me finish, please. I know it wasn't your fucking business, but you could have at least given me a hint-" 

"I tried-" 

"Please, let me finish," Yuri hisses. Otabek gulps and leans back on his chair. Yuri sighs, "but knowing it through other fonts, through Phichit calling me a traitor and through a damn gossip site wasn't good. I grew a bit hysterical so, sorry for that. But I wouldn't have imagined it in a million years, and I'm still not," he sighs, lowering his eyes and clutching the teddy bear closer to his chest. Otabek is still looking at him, hands firmly grasping the armrests. "I'm finished," Yuri mumbles. 

Otabek opens his mouth. "For a moment I thought you knew. Then before the show at the festival you were complaining about Phichit. I realized that you didn't and I was going to tell you, but then something happened and I forgot it. I've never wanted to hurt you, Yuri, never. I should've explained myself better but all I could think about was that you were accusing me of something I hadn't done and how unfair it was." 

Yuri is silent as he soaks that up. 

"Would you read it again?" Otabek asks, and roams around his pockets for his phone. "I know you don't believe me, but would you read the messages again?" He opens the same conversation tab he had opened in the apartment, everything he and Mila had ever said to each other. He extends it pleadingly towards Yuri. 

Yuri licks his lips and closes his hand around Otabek's on the phone, inching it back towards his chest. "You don't need to show me that." 

"Yuri," Otabek pleads, "don't do this again. If you would only-" 

"I trust you," Yuri says, and takes the phone from Otabek's hand. Otabek blinks up at him and Yuri steps closer, sitting on his spread knee and putting Otabek's phone back in his pocket. "I believe you, Beka. If you say nothing happened," he cups one of his cheeks in his hand, "then nothing happened." 

Otabek seems to have been taken off-guard. He sets a hand on Yuri's waist gingerly. "She heard me." 

"What?" 

"At the after-party, remember? We thought she had passed out, but she was listening. I said there was nothing I'd love more than to take your clothes off somewhere else, and she heard me," his lips turn down, "she wasn't very happy with me when you went to the bathroom. I had to tell her I'd never seen her more than as a friend. She didn't take it very well, and I understand." 

Yuri nods, remembering the scene. Mila'd grown cold all of a sudden when he'd returned. He hadn't realized that had been the breaking point until now, and at the time he thought nothing of the fact that she had been passed out before but up and awake the next. 

Yuri rests his forehead against Otabek's and looks into his eyes. "Okay. Sorry that I was an asshole and screamed at you. And left you by yourself when you'd have to face JJ and the world." 

Otabek shakes his head, a small smile in place. "Sorry I didn't tell you earlier," he turns his head to the side to kiss Yuri's palm, "and don't worry about JJ." 

"Yeah? He's in deep shit," Yuri snorts, and finally leans to kiss Otabek, caressing the upper part of his undercut. His lips feel chapped, but are warm and soft under Yuri's, rubbing the side of his neck affectionately and pulling him farther into his lap. 

"I loved the bear by the way," Otabek says when they break apart, bumping his nose against Yuri's. 

"Ah, what makes you think I got it for you?" Yuri teases, clamping Otabek's bottom lip between his fingers and pulling. 

Otabek shakes himself free and bites his finger in retaliation. "I dubbed him." 

Yuri turns the bear's face towards him and examines it. He does have a stoic face that matches Otabek's. "Really?" 

Otabek stares at him for a minute before shaking his head and laughing. Yuri hits him in the chest. "Liar."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and the comments, I read them all! You guys are _phenomenal_!!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaay! Finally! Sorry for taking so long to update this, my semester is back and I have to study a looot. Thanks to everyone who's left me comments and to all the people that have contacted me on Tumblr, you guys are awesome ;) Sorry is the chapter is a bit hurried, I wrote it in small parts everyday so in a bigger picture some things might be a bit disconnected.

"Then I talked to- Yura, no," Otabek pauses, staring back at Yuri, who has a large box of condoms in his hands and holds it up like he's about to throw it at Otabek. 

"Think fast," Yuri says, and throws it Otabek's way. 

Sighing, Otabek catches it in his hands. Yuri finds it funny that he normally never blushes, but now his cheeks are a dark pink and he subtly looks to the sides at the other clients in the drugstore before shuffling the box into their purchases. 

"Seriously, we didn't have to do this here," Otabek mumbles and Yuri cackles, walking towards him and taking his arm so they can continue going down the shelves. 

"We'd have to do it sometime," Yuri states, and pulls him towards the end of the shelf. "Anything else you find interesting?" He pulls a bottle of lube and inspects the label, "Hm, strawberry flavored. I don't think it'll be much of use for us though, I'll be leaking slick like a motherfuc-" 

"Yura, please," Otabek cringes, "We don't need anything else, come on." 

Yuri rolls his eyes, "Fine, fine. Spoilsports," he mumbles, but allows Otabek to pull them towards the cashier. 

He wears a strangely dignified face when the woman rings up the box of condoms. Yuri barely stifles his laughter, getting the bag once they're done and being kind enough to only remark on it when they'd left hearing range of the other clients. 

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, you know, I got you extra-large ones," Yuri informs. Otabek gives him a small glance that's supposed to shut him up. "Oh, come on, my big, strong alpha," Yuri jokes, pulling him close by the ends of his scarf, "By the end of the week you will have a big grin in your face instead of this fucking scowl, hn?" 

Otabek finally smirks, grabbing him by the hips and kissing him. "Sorry," he murmurs, "this thing with JJ gets me mad." 

"Yeah, but we're here to have fun," Yuri announces, gesturing at the sun, high in the sky when they leave the airport. They'd only just arrived in Tuscany and Yuri is glad he'd changed into shorts before landing. Only Otabek seems to be immune to the heat, still wearing that damn scarf of his. 

"We're here for Victor and Yuri's wedding, actually," Otabek remarks, pulling at his and Yuri's baggage as they look for a cab. 

"Actually, we are so you can see me in bikinis," Yuri teases, walking ahead of him and blowing him a kiss over his shoulder. 

"Will you wear a bikini?" Otabek's eyes glint hopefully. Yuri cackles, bending to talk to the cab driver that'd pulled over for them. He speaks in slightly accented Italian and nods once before getting in the backseat. 

"When were you going to tell me you speak Italian?" Otabek asks when they settle on the backseat. Yuri hums, letting his head fall on his shoulder as the driver speeds off. 

"When were you going to tell me you dubbed characters in Kazakh?" 

"That was once," Otabek mumbles, and halfway into the drive unfolds his scarf from around his neck. His phone vibrates inside his pocket and Yuri takes it from his grasp before he can see what it is. 

"We said no phones, remember?" He pockets Otabek's phone in his shorts, taking both his hands in his. Otabek grunts but doesn't stop him, leaning against his seat and rubbing Yuri's fingers. They both watch the landscape through the window, leaving the greyness of the city and heading towards sparse fields. 

"Hong wants a deal," Otabek speaks up and Yuri groans. "No, I think it'll be good," Otabek continues, "at least it will be faster." 

"But he's not getting an easy way out of it, is he? Because that won't be fucking fair," Yuri grumbles. 

Otabek shakes his head. He doesn't like discussing this with Yuri so much anymore. "I just want his profits." 

"With the song?" Yuri tilts his head up to watch him. Otabek nods. "That's all?" Yuri exclaims, "Beka, that's not enough!" 

"Plus something else for having stolen it in the first place," Otabek murmurs. 

"How much?" 

Otabek doesn't say. Yuri grins. 

The driver pulls over twenty minutes later, after they'd already gone through what looked like half of Italy. The house they'd rented looks just like the pictures Otabek had shown Yuri online. They'd rented the house for the rest of the month. There was a heat hotel nearby as well but they wanted privacy. The house is modern and not too big, with two stores and a square pool in the backyard. 

They pay the driver and drag their baggage up the small brick steps. Otabek takes the spare key beneath a plant pot like the owner had told them to, turning it in the lock. The house is airy inside, with plants hanging on the walls. "Do we have to water them?" Yuri frowns, following Otabek inside. 

"The owner asked us to," Otabek says, leading him up the stairs and to the bedroom. "I don't mind." 

"Great," Yuri comments, dropping on the bed as soon as he rests his baggage next to the door. The mattress is fluffy and covered in white sheets. He taps the space beside him, "C'mere." 

Otabek grins and bends to lie on top of him, nudging some locks of his hair out of the way to kiss Yuri. 

Yuri hums, locking his legs around his waist and pulling him down next to him. Otabek makes a pleased but surprised sound amidst the kiss, holding the back of Yuri's head with both hands. 

"Happy?" Otabek asks after they break apart. Yuri nods, resting there for some time. 

He is hungry but they only have potato chips and some water bottles that they were wise enough to buy at the airport. The kitchen, Otabek finds two minutes later after they'd already gotten up from the bed, is food-free, which means they would have to find their way into the city to grocery shop. 

They shower first, and it's difficult to fit both of them inside the tiny stall but they manage. Yuri dips his head under the spray while Otabek lathers his body with his body wash. Yuri blinks under the droplets of water, admiring his boyfriend and stepping aside to give him room to wash. 

"Did you bring the shampoo?" Yuri asks. 

Otabek nods, "In the bag," he gestures to the bag that he'd left on top of the counter. Yuri pads out of the stall, naked and shivering and dripping water. Otabek had brought more body wash, their shampoo and conditioner, their toothbrushes and dental floss. Yuri grabs the shampoo and the conditioner, moving back to the stall and handing the shampoo to Otabek. His boyfriend immediately sets to work, carding his fingers through Yuri's hair to spread the shampoo. 

Yuri hums approvingly and tilts his head back. Otabek taps his ass to change places with him, and while the water washes away the shampoo from Yuri's hair Yuri reaches out to apply it to Otabek's. 

Yuri squeezes his leave-in conditioner to his own hair when Otabek moves under the shower spray, and waits for a moment, shivering and padding up on his bare feet to smooch Otabek under the water. Otabek gives him a fond look under his eyelashes, touching the sides of Yuri's waist softly. 

"What is it?" 

Yuri shrugs, and lunges to bite Otabek's lower lip. "I'm huuungry." 

Otabek chuckles, offering to lather the body wash on Yuri's body. Yuri accepts, and when he steps under the spray Otabek follows the water's path with his hands down his body. Yuri tilts his head back to gather water in his mouth, turning to spit onto Otabek's face like a fountain. He laughs at the way Otabek startles away. 

"Did you hang my dress?" Yuri asks Otabek once they have stepped out of the shower. Otabek is already in his jeans and is standing in front of the mirror, carding his fingers through his hair. 

"Yeah," he says while Yuri leans against the counter to comb his own hair. It's long and full of knots and Yuri's boyfriend chuckles under his breath at the amount of swearing that comes out of his mouth. Otabek puts on his shirt, and calls an uber. 

Yuri squeezes inside jeans and a white sleeveless shirt, clambering into the car along with Otabek. "Turn around," he says, pulling Otabek's chin his way and squeezing a dollop of sunscreen on his hand. 

Otabek frowns at the cold feel of it but rests his head back to allow Yuri to rub it with his fingers. The driver is glancing at them through the rear-view mirror and smiling. "You need it more than I do," he finally states once Yuri is done. 

"Duh," Yuri rolls his eyes, "I get it, I'm white as a sheet of paper. I can't tan." 

"That's not what I meant," Otabek furrows his brow. 

"Well, you need to shave," Yuri retorts smartly. 

"Do I?" Otabek touches his jaw self-consciously. It's not showing yet but there are tiny bristles that prick his fingertips. 

Yuri watches him for a second. "No, you could let it grow out for once." 

Otabek huffs unbelievingly. "Are you sure? You hate stubble." 

Yuri gasps in shock. "Who said that?" 

Otabek is lost for words. "I don't know, you always just remind me to shave, so I thought..." 

Yuri blushes a bit, waving him away. "Okay, I get it. This is us," he calls to the taxi driver in Italian. He pulls over at a square filled with gelato vendors and people milling about in summer clothes. Otabek pays the driver and they climb from the car. 

They're far from the most competed for destinations in summer. The house they'd rented was at some far away district whose main village consisted of small brick houses pushed up next to each other, clothes hanging by the verandas and streets made of paving stone. There's one beach a couple miles west too, which Yuri was looking forward to visiting once Otabek rented the motorcycle he had been meaning to. 

For now they just take a stroll around the village, walking hand-in-hand down the sidewalks and avoiding the places where the sun was most intense. They stop for pictures – mostly, Yuri shoving his phone Otabek's way to snap a picture of him under the sunlight -, Yuri sticking out his tongue at the camera, red tinted after his gelato; Yuri next to a fountain of a laboring woman; and Yuri absentmindedly pushing a lock of his hair away from his face, staring at the distance, under the sun and among the street fair shoppers (that one snapped by Otabek without his knowledge) and finally a selfie of them with their faces pushed together, which Yuri posts and captions _'summer with Beka #bf #italy'_. All the pictures end up hitting Yuri's account later. 

They spot a grocery shop and get everything they'll need for next days, including for Yuri's heat: lots of water and fruits, vegetables and nuts, bread and milk and noodles. Otabek promises to cook them something nice when they get back to the house and indeed cooks a salad that fits Yuri's diet, and even the noodles shaped like car wheels that Yuri had picked out. 

"You're a child," Otabek remarks not for the first time to his boyfriend. 

Yuri laughs and flings a wheel noodle his way. 

They're tired and spent once eating, and as the afternoon sun begins to scorch them they move to the bedroom to rest for a while. Otabek turns on the house's cooling system and they snuggle under the blankets together. 

When Yuri wakes up Otabek is not on the bed with him anymore. Groaning, he turns on the sheets and spends some time watching the way the sun filters through the curtains before getting up. He's in a big shirt Otabek had lent him to sleep in seeing he'd forgotten his sleep clothes – thanks, Beka -, and goes down the stairs to prepare himself some coffee. 

He can already spot Otabek, in his swimming trunks inside the pool, cupping his hands under the tree leaves that float on the surface to push them over the pool's edge. He looks up when Yuri walks towards the pool to meet him, a mug in hand. 

The sun is still shining upon them, but not as strongly as it was in the morning and Yuri sits by the edge of the pool to finish his coffee. "Why didn't you wake me up?" He asks, and Otabek shrugs. 

"You should use the rest." 

Yuri hums. Already he can feel his body overheating and sips on his coffee. Hot beverages are not exactly nice in this weather, he'd forgotten, and inches his empty mug away from the pool's edge when he pulls his shirt over his head. 

"Wow," Otabek makes when Yuri flings his shirt aside to dip inside the pool, completely naked. "If I'd known you were into skinny dipping I would've brought my camera." 

Yuri sticks his tongue out at him, swimming towards Otabek, who catches him by the waist when he approaches. Yuri locks his legs on his waist like he does when they have sex, except he weighs way lighter and the movement comes more easily under the water. "Oh, yeah, Yakov said we have to be careful about our _private photographs_ ," Yuri rolls his eyes, "Honestly, I don't see what's so bad about people watching us fucking." 

Otabek inches one eyebrow up. "I think he meant they might hack us and publish our private pictures. It happens a lot and I agree that we should be careful." 

"Oh, come on," Yuri slaps the water around them and it splashes everywhere. "That's the fun of it." 

"Having everyone seeing us naked and stain our careers with a sex scandal?" Otabek asks unbelievingly. 

"No, doing it without them knowing," Yuri murmurs. 

Otabek rolls his eyes. "Yura," he bemoans. 

"Beka," Yuri imitates in an idiotic voice, kicking his heel into the small of Otabek's back. "Anyway, what are we doing tonight?" 

Otabek shrugs, taking a look around. There's a small living space by the pool, with wicker chair cushions and a small coffee table. Otabek spams his arms to swim southwards in the pool, Yuri safely attached to his waist. "We could stay outside, eat something," he shrugs, switching his eyes to Yuri and grinning broadly. "Light some candles." 

"Ooh, loverboy," Yuri teases, wrapping his arms around Otabek's neck to bring him closer. The water sloshes calmly about them, half of Yuri's hair submerged in the water. They make out for a long time, enough that Yuri's shoulders start to burn under the weak sun. 

Otabek motions to get his swimming trunks off and Yuri smirks into the kiss, lifting up slightly to help him remove it. Otabek flings it to the pool's edge next to Yuri's shirt with a wet splotch, readily relocating his hands to Yuri's bare ass. 

Yuri licks into his mouth, spanning his fingertips up and down the nape of Otabek's neck in that way that makes him shiver. "Fuck me," he pulls back to whisper huskily. 

Otabek gulps uncertainly, looking around. 

"There's no one around," Yuri frowns, "come on." 

"I don't know-" 

"Yes, you do," he grinds against him, lifting one eyebrow at the half-hard erection Otabek was already sporting. "By the pool's edge, come on. From behind," he nudges Otabek. 

 

\- 

 

They make dinner together, with Yuri sat on the counter sneaking bites into his mouth while Otabek cooked. Yuri puts on jeans shorts and a long-sleeved shirt because the night breeze is friskier than he'd thought it would and Otabek is in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Yuri rolls his eyes at his attire, he still had lots to learn about fashion. 

They take their food to the space outside and Otabek lights some candles he'd found in a cabinet. Yuri feels a bit bashful because he's never had anything like this done to him, and they eat side by side on the loveseat, under the glow of the candles that flicker with the breeze. They talk and share stories and the same wine glass, passing it from hand to hand or depositing it on the coffee table until the other reached for it. Otabek's food is good and it's a salvation because Yuri could burn water if he was left at it. 

When finished they leave their plates on the table, Yuri stretching his feet to rest at its edge, resting his head back on Otabek's shoulder as his boyfriend talks about something that's happened in his childhood and shows him pictures on his phone of his friends back from Almaty. 

"Hn," Yuri makes when Otabek is done, wriggling his toes together. "I was thinking about going to that beach tomorrow. You need to get your bike too, right?" 

Otabek nods, hand resting on Yuri's waist. "We could go in the morning. Victor's bachelor's party is tomorrow night." 

"Oh," Yuri squeezes his eyes shut, "I forgot about that. Fuck. I have to attend Katsuki's. Hey, you wanna trade?" 

Otabek raises one single eyebrow. "You'd rather go to Victor's bachelor's party, really?" 

Yuri growls, shaking his head. "Fuck no. Forget I said that. I don't even know who's gonna be there though. Probably all his idiotic friends. Seems like we'll have a lot to talk about," Yuri rolls his eyes ironically. 

Otabek chuckles. "He was very kind to invite us though. The wedding _is_ private, after all." 

"Whatever," Yuri grabs Otabek's phone from the table, "take a picture of us. I want our fans to die of jealousy." 

Otabek smirks and gets up to prop his phone on the chair opposite them, setting the timer and running back to Yuri, who throws one arm over his shoulder and kisses him. The photo comes out weird in all of the first three attempts. It's only on the fourth that it comes out right, Otabek's arm thrown over Yuri's abdomen, Yuri's legs propped on the table and the candle light setting them in a warm glow. 

"Ow," Yuri coos at the screen, "we look so fucking cute. Post it." 

Otabek does. 

 

\- 

 

The next day Otabek rents a motorcycle. Yuri isn't unappalled, not having really doubted his boyfriend's ability to choose the _same fucking model_ of his own motorcycle back in St Petersburg. 

"I'm used to this one," Otabek defends himself when they're leaving the rental place. 

Yuri throws one leg behind him and huffs. "I know, but you could've at least picked a different color." In truth Yuri is still sour because Otabek didn't pick the bright red one he'd been pulling on his sleeve to show him ever since they'd stepped into the store. 

"People would notice us," Otabek grumbles. 

Yuri throws his hands and gives up. Otabek speeds towards the house and Yuri holds tight onto his waist when they go through several bumps on the road. At last they arrive and Yuri makes a beeline for the shower. Katsuki's bachelor party was to be thrown at a bathing house similar to the one his family owned back in Japan. Seriously, these people had no imagination? Yuri doesn't know where Victor's planning to have his own because Otabek said it was _confidential_. 

"I swear to god," Yuri says, doing his hair while Otabek roams around the closet for his button-down, "if it's an omega strip house I'll have your dick chopped and sent in a box back to your family." 

Otabek shakes his head, not shaken by Yuri's expletives. "It's not a strip house," he replies, and then puts on his shirt. "You didn't tell me where Katsuki is holding his either." 

Yuri snorts. "It's in a fucking bathing house. How can he be so- so _like that_?" 

Otabek chuckles amusedly. "Like what?" 

"Like, obtuse, I don't know. He's fucking senseless," Yuri takes a hair pin from the dressing table, "If it was _my_ bachelor's party I would hire a whole circus and get so drunk that I'd get a tattoo with your name spelled wrong or some shit." 

"My name?" Otabek smirks, and Yuri pauses, avoiding his own gaze on the mirror's reflection. He flushes to the roots of his hair, and pretends to have dropped something just to crouch and wince at himself. 

But Otabek comes up behind him to wrap an arm around his waist. "If it was _my_ bachelor's party," he begins, but doesn't say anything else for a moment. 

"What?" Yuri eggs on. 

"I don't know," Otabek says to his shoulder. "I don't know. I don't think I'd let you out of my sight." 

"Sap," Yuri retorts, but lets Otabek lick his gloss away from his lips. 

 

\- 

 

Katsuki's bachelor party is better than Yuri'd given him credit for. 

Alcohol was short because Katsudon thought he was pregnant and didn't want to indulge. Thankfully, Minako takes some money from an atm and buys them vodka shots. Yuri downs them and takes several selfies, including one with the glow-in-the-dark cat ears. He posts it to his Instagram and Otabek likes it almost immediately. 

On the way back Yuri can't quite stand on his high-heels and drops face-first on the bed when he gets to the house. He sleeps for what feels like an eternity until waking up with a terrible headache. Otabek smirks his way once entering the bedroom and after giving him some pills and a glass of water, sits down beside him on the bed and scrolls through his feed. 

"How was Victor's thing?" He asks after a couple minutes. The pills are starting to work. 

Otabek shrugs, but his face says it all. "Kind of nice." 

Yuri snorts. " _Kind_ of nice?" 

"It was boring," Otabek finally says. "His guests were kind of awful and he spent the whole night talking about his movies and what led him into making them. Then he passed out because he'd drunk too much sake. Me and the other guys dumped him on his bed and returned." 

"Wow," Yuri scoffs, "the strippers would've been better." 

Otabek makes a non-committal noise in the back of his throat. Yuri sleeps a bit more and then gets up from the bed. 

Otabek is watering the plants, humming under his breath when he spots Yuri. "The wedding is in a couple of hours, but we'd do well to get there before the ceremony," he says. 

Yuri opens the fridge to wolf down some food and agrees, munching on his cheese pensively. "Katsudon thinks he's pregnant." 

Otabek lifts both eyebrows in surprise. "Really?" 

Yuri nods, throwing his hair over one shoulder. "He didn't even drink anything. Just sat there like a dead snail. He cried, I think," Yuri frowns, he has a faint memory of seeing Yuuri cry with nerves until someone else went to listen to his sorrows. 

"Oh," Otabek makes, setting the watering can on the counter, "that sounds bad. Was he all right?" 

Yuri shrugs. "I don't know. But I hope he fucking marries today." 

They take their time getting ready for the wedding. Yuri shaves and washes meticulously, applying his body lotion and his make-up. Otabek takes their clothes out meanwhile, arranging them on the bed before going into the shower stall Yuri had vacated. It's strange how they behave so synchronically, like a pair of old men. 

Make-up done, Yuri moves to the bedroom to put his clothes on. He'd been intending to go with a bright red dress to match his bright red lipstick but had gone against it and picked a backless jumpsuit in tiny pale gold sequins. It brings out his skin and the honey freckles he got during summer. Otabek was a bit in love with them, Yuri could tell, kissing the bridge of Yuri's nose and the top of his cheeks, following them down his shoulders. 

"Wow," Otabek says when he steps out to see Yuri. Otabek himself had only just put on his tuxedo, flattening the collar as he eyes Yuri from the doorway. "You look gorgeous, Yura." 

Yuri grins. "Thanks. You're not bad yourself." 

Otabek extends him a fond look and they collect their things. They call for a cab and wait by the front door. Victor's and Yuuri's wedding ceremony was going to be held at a tiny chapel not far from where they were and the after-party at the gardens of somewhere beautiful enough to leave Yuri wordless. 

Given the short distance they arrive at the chapel pretty quickly. Otabek helps Yuri out of the car and kisses him once before they go inside. Yuri raises one eyebrow at him but says nothing. 

It feels more like a funeral than a wedding, but that's probably because it's private so everyone tries to keep as quiet as possible. There wasn't much outside the chapel denoting a wedding was being held but inside there are white lilies everywhere, hanging by the end of every aisle and handed to every guest to put in their lapels. The guests, which might be a bit more than thirty people, mingle in tiny circles before taking their seats. 

Yuri and Otabek take a seat on the second row and Yuri peers at the altar over a bald head sat in front of him. There's a priest standing, murmuring something to a silver head that can only belong to Victor. 

"What is going on?" Yuri murmurs to Otabek. 

"He's waiting for Katsuki, I guess." 

Yuri hums, eyes straying to the other guests. Some of them look familiar, like the actress and the director from the dinner Victor'd thrown in his house in St Petersburg. Others Yuri doesn't recognize. He does spot Katsudon's ballet instructor and the Italian guy who was with them that night as well, Michael or Michelle. 

They wait for what seems like ten more minutes and Yuri can tell the guests are shifty, even the priest doing his best to appear nonchalant. 

"Do you think he's coming at all?" Otabek asks Yuri lowly. 

"If he doesn't I'm gonna drag him here by the hair," Yuri threatens, but it proves to be unnecessary as the musicians gathered start playing the wedding march. They both get up from their seats and turn to the entrance of the chapel. 

Katsudon looks red to the face as he makes his way towards Victor. He's wearing a white tuxedo, a tiny blue flower in his lapel. Victor makes the most relieved face at the sight of him, taking his hand once Katsudon reaches the bottom of the altar. He says something that makes Yuuri smile and chuckle. 

Yuri and Otabek take their seats back to watch the rest of the ceremony. The priest's voice is low and drags unpleasantly inside Yuri's ears. Yuri is yawning, head resting on Otabek's shoulder when the priest finally raises his voice to ask for they accepted each other as their rightful husband and so on. 

"For god's sake," Yuri grunts, clapping when both say they do and kiss. "I thought he was gonna take the whole day." 

Otabek chuckles and winds an arm around his waist to lead them outside before the merry couple. 

They're handed rice grains and Yuri has the time of his life throwing them at Victor's receding hair. He manages to hit his eye though and is satisfied. 

There's a line of tiny vehicles waiting to take the guests to the place where the celebration was going to be held. Yuri squeezes himself inside the backseat along with Otabek. The drive there doesn't take long but Yuri smashes his face to the window when they arrive. 

"Holy fuck," he mumbles. 

The place looks like something out of a fairy tale, with the sunlight glinting gold on every tree, a simple fountain bubbling at the entrance. Yuri's heels dig into the spaces between the paving stones and Otabek has to guide him with a hand to his elbow. 

"Leave it to Victor to choose places that fuck me up," he grumbles, and Otabek wraps an arm around his waist. 

"It's beautiful here though," Otabek confesses and Yuri makes a nonchalant noise. 

There's a pathway of arched roses leading the guests further down the garden, where tables are set with white tablecloths and a small band is playing some easy listening tune. They find their seats and soon enough there is a waiter offering them champagne and small appetizers. 

"How many carbs do you think this has?" Yuri asks, holding a bruschetta to Otabek's eye level. 

Otabek gives him an unbelieving look. "Yura, you can't be serious." 

Yuri eats it all the same, raising an eyebrow at Otabek. "What?" 

Otabek scoffs, polishing his own appetizers in small, princely bites. "This is Katsuki's and Victor's wedding. Hardly the time to be worrying about your diet." 

Yuri rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Have you seen that cake though?" He inches his chin towards the high table set parallel to the guests' ones, the seats for the grooms still vacant. The lavish cake sits on the centre, decorated with colourful frosting. "I intend to have at least half of it all to myself," Yuri exaggerates, "I have to prioritize its carbs." 

Otabek shakes his head at his antics. "You're mad." 

"Trust me," Yuri waves a hors d'ouevres in front of his boyfriend's face, "I'm normal. You haven't seen the others," he says, wiping his hands on his dress before he realizes what he's just said. "You fucker," he gasps, turning to Otabek, who has only just opened his mouth to chastise him for being so unhygienic. 

"Excuse me?" 

"You _have_ seen the others," Yuri bats his shoulder, "you slept with other models." 

Otabek's face contorts. He hates that topic no matter how much Yuri sometimes tries to convince him to spill a list of names of every other model he's slept with. "Look, Victor and Katsuki are here," he points out, surely using the opportunity to diverge the topic. 

Katsudon is flushed but bears an ear-splitting smile as he and Victor show up hand in hand to take their seats. Some guests clap their hands and the band plays a softer tune. Victor shoulders the attention with the ease he's always been known for possessing, taking a microphone that a solicitous someone hands him. 

"Thank you all so much for being here with us today," he starts. 

"Oh no, he's gonna make a fucking speech," Yuri groans. Otabek takes his hand under the table and squeezes it. 

"This is a dream come true for me and Yuuri," Victor continues, taking his now husband's hand in his and kissing his knuckles. Some of the guests coo. Yuri gags. 

"They've known each other for like, two years at most," Yuri comments derisively, " _'a dream come true'_ ," he repeats Victor's words in a mocking voice. Otabek shoots him a quiet look. 

"It means a lot that all of you managed to be here despite of your careers. Me and Yuuri are very grateful. We hope you'll enjoy yourselves tonight." 

The guests clap, Otabek among them. Yuri sips more of his champagne and elbows Otabek's side. "See?" He points at Katsudon's hand, where he's reaching for his glass, wedding ring glinting. Otabek raises an eyebrow. "He's not having alcohol," Yuri emphasizes, "what did I tell you?" 

Otabek frowns, "do you think he's-" 

Yuri leans back on his chair and smirks. "Want to bet?" 

Otabek studies his face for a minute. "And _what_ do you want to bet exactly?" 

"You can fuck me in the pool later if I'm wrong," Yuri states, swirling his champagne flute defiantly. 

"I can always fuck you in the pool, give me something else." 

Yuri gasps in mock surprise, setting his flute down on the table. The content swirls and some of it lands on the tablecloth. "So sure of yourself, aren't you?" 

Otabek bites his bottom lip and nods, pulling on Yuri's hand to bring him closer. Yuri resists playfully. "Do you think you can have me anytime, anywhere you want?" He taunts, and isn't quite so shocked when Otabek nods. "Cheeky bastard," he hisses, "you're damn right." 

Otabek chuckles and cups Yuri's cheek to kiss him. Yuri looks devastatingly good in summer. Otabek is quite biased, he is aware, because Yuri looks gorgeous all the time, but in summer specially he sprouts tiny, caramel freckles on his shoulders and on the top of cheeks, drizzling down to the tip of his nose. His skin turns bright red under the sun, which seems to infuriate Otabek's boyfriend a lot, but when it subsides it turns just a shade darker, like clear honey. The hair on top of his head bleaches under the sun and everything combined makes him look like some kind of beauty goddess, his starkly green eyes making Otabek's insides turn to mush every time he glances his way under his pale eyelashes. 

"Oh no," someone grunts from Otabek's right. They pull apart to find none other than Yakov, fishing his phone out of his pocket as he takes the seat on the table. 

"What the fuck?!" Yuri screeches, which gets the unwanted attention of other guests. 

Yakov huffs when taking his seat, studying Otabek for a minute. "What did you want, kiddo?" He asks Yuri, not seemingly shaken with his surprise. "I know Victor for longer than you do," he grumbles, "unfortunately," he adds on a lower tone. 

"I can't fucking believe that you criticized me for coming here when you'd bring your old ass as well," Yuri remarks. 

"You've been extending your summer vacation since you started dating this boy," Yakov accuses. Otabek doesn't know what he'd been expecting out of the explosive encounter of Yuri and his agent but in hindsight he should've been expecting this. "Your career isn't going to make itself if you just keep on kissing and flying around with him." 

He must mean the time when Yuri had accompanied Otabek to his festival. Otabek looks down at the table and pretends to ignore the way Yuri and his agent bark at each other. A waiter shows up with a glass of water, which Yuri had ordered for him since he didn't have any alcohol. Otabek reaches his hand to take it, glad for some sort of interruption. Yuri wraps his fingers around Otabek's wrist though. 

"Beka, let's go dance," he says, hissing the words out to Yakov as though it's a personal insult. He stands up and Otabek can do nothing other than settle his water on the table and give Yakov a polite but uncomfortable nod. 

Yuri doesn't lead him to the dance floor, which is empty since the guests still aren't drunk, but to a place that overlooks the rest of the garden. The place looks amazing and they take a couple pictures together that Yuri plans to upload to his Instagram. 

Otabek doesn't complain when afterwards Yuri nudges him towards a vine covered wall and proceeds to kiss the hell out of him. 

"You know what I've been thinking," Yuri says in between kisses, "since I saw you in this?" He fists the lapels of Otabek's tuxedo forcefully. 

Otabek makes an unconcerned sound in the back of his throat, too busy nipping Yuri's bottom lip and smarting his tongue over the tiny bruise he'd left right behind his ear. 

"That you could bend me over that-" Yuri begins, eyes dark with intent before Otabek slams his mouth on his. 

"Yura," he warns half-heartedly, "I'll get hard and this isn't the place. If it's improper then don't say it." 

"I might as well keep my mouth shut for the rest of the night then," Yuri says with an indignant puff. "Let's go," he pulls Otabek by the hand when his boyfriend chases his lips, "you totally killed the mood anyway." 

Otabek follows with a slight discomfort inside his trousers, which hopefully isn't visible. The guests seem drunker than they were when they left, and at some point Otabek manages to drink his water. Yuri stops with the appetizers altogether, eyeing the cake wistfully. 

The microphone is passed around to the guests that wish to make a toast to the couple and of course Yuri's deviate from the polite line of thought of the other guests, but they laugh out loud when he's finished and Katsudon looks as red as a tomato with all the insinuations he's done about a pregnancy. 

Yakov gives him an unstimulated shake of his head when Yuri sits back down. 

At some point the cake is cut and Yuri makes sure to get himself a sizable slice. Otabek doesn't have more than one small slice and spends the rest of the time watching Yuri. The band is playing some songs he recognizes, and a petite woman sits on a stool with a guitar and starts strolling. She introduces herself and then starts playing. She sounds good and it contributes to give the ambience a more romantic vibe. The dancefloor slowly fills with couples and Otabek turns to Yuri questioningly. 

Yuri rolls his eyes but gives him his hand so they can get up and join the dance floor. Otabek proudly sets a hand on the small of his back and they swing from side to side along with the music. 

"I'm gonna ask Katsudon later," Yuri says, "if he's indeed pregnant." 

Otabek hums noncommittally, resting his chin on the curve of Yuri's shoulder. He smells like some unmistakeable, expensive fragrance, and something else that Otabek has come to learn to be the scent of his skin, made sweeter and all the more alluring from some days now, probably with the proximity of his heat. At the thought of Yuri hot and bothered for him Otabek clenches his hand tighter around him, dipping his nose under his ear to inebriate his senses with Yuri. 

Yuri shivers at the contact, the arms around Otabek's shoulders tightening. "My heat mustn't be very far now," he whispers to Otabek. "Can we still go to the beach tomorrow though?" 

Otabek nods, feeling like a boulder than can't be moved from this time and space where he has Yuri so snug to him. The sound of the music around them and the other guests moving filter in and out of Otabek's mind. 

"Do you know this song?" Yuri asks when Otabek murmurs the lyrics. 

Otabek's response is to chant it on his ear. " _Hold me close and hold me fast, this magic spell you cast,_ " he kisses Yuri's earlobe. "She's a bit out of tune." 

Yuri snorts, trying to feel indifferent to their embrace and how everything around them seems to conspire to make this moment unbearably sappy. "I can't believe you're such a sap." 

"I'm trying," Otabek murmurs, " _When you press me to your heart, I'm in a world apart_..." 

"Seriously though," Yuri pulls back minutely to stare him in the eye, "I didn't know you could sing." 

"I don't," Otabek bends to drop a kiss on the bone protruding on his shoulder. 

Yuri rolls his eyes. "Right. So you'll deny that you're like, a dream alpha?" 

Otabek raises his eyebrows inquisitively, a shit-eating grin forming on his lips. Yuri doesn't even have the time to try and take it back. "Yuri Plisetsky, are you saying I am your dream alpha?" He asks amusedly. 

"You wish," Yuri's face burns so hot he feels feverish. "I'm just saying-" 

"Admit it," Otabek squints at him, speaking over Yuri and tightening his hold on his waist. 

Yuri stomps on his feet remarkedly, which breaks some of their pace. Otabek almost knocks a lady over and Yuri stifles his laughter on his shoulder, hiding his face from view when Otabek painstakingly apologizes. 

"As I was saying, you're just full of surprises," Yuri says. 

 

\- 

 

When they leave the party the sky is already dark. Soft yellow lights hang from the archways and a drunk Katsudon clings to Yuri's shoulders. Yuri grimaces, trying to steady the poor balance he has on these shoes on the paving stones, leftover cake in one hand. 

"Yuri- _ii_ ," Katsudon smashes his face against Yuri's shoulder. "I don't know what I would have done without you here," he sobs. Yuri doubts that is actually true since he was far from the most important guest and had only exchanged a few words of congratulations to the couple during the entire evening. 

"I'm sure," Yuri pats his back lightly. "Beka," he shouts, and Otabek, looking extremely uncomfortable talking to a similarly drunk Victor, spots him and strides his way. 

He helps dislodge Katsudon from Yuri and the Japanese smiles brightly up at him and proudly announces he has to get ready for his nuptials. 

The ride back to the house has Yuri groaning with his head on Otabek's lap, feet up by the open window. His shoes had killed his feet. 

"Did he tell you?" Otabek asks, swirling a lock of Yuri's hair. 

"Hn?" 

"Katsuki. You said you were going to ask if he was pregnant." 

Yuri smirks mirthfully up at him. "He is. But I don't know, he was so drunk I'm not sure he got what I meant," Yuri muses. "Hey, know what Yakov told me?" 

Otabek shakes his head. 

Yuri smiles brightly. "Seems like you're dating the most expensive shampoo's global face." 

Otabek's eyebrows inch up. "You got the contract?" 

Yuri nods sleepily. "Heading back to Paris as soon as we leave here to shoot it." 

"That's great, Yura," Otabek smiles, "congratulations." 

"Yeah, yeah," Yuri waves him off, rising up to his elbows when they arrive at their destination. Otabek helps him out of the car and up the stairs to the bedroom. Yuri flops down on the bed and Otabek makes a miracle out of taking the dress from him. 

"Wish I could ride you if I wasn't so fucking dead," Yuri proclaims to the ceiling. Otabek can't help but be disappointed at the prospect but takes his clothes off and stretches his back before sprawling next to Yuri on the bed. 

"I'll survive," he says, pulling Yuri closer to his chest. Yuri hums contently and settles for an instant. 

Otabek watches him fall asleep and only comes back to himself when there's a fire-hot need in his crotch and a cloying, _amazing_ smell in the air. It's morning, he realizes, the sunlight filtering through the blinds and Yuri's heady scent next to him. He's already awake, and when Otabek's eyes snap open Yuri moans like he's about to die. 

"Beka," he shakes, and a primal, burning instinct takes over Otabek's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and being such patient readers! The music that plays at the wedding is La Vie en Rose, if you hadn't recognizes it yet. Totally sappy but when I [heard this version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Ba_WoSZXvw) I couldn't help but think about Otayuri, so if you'd like you could listen to it as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave me a comment so I can get in touch with you and know if/how I should continue.


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